War of Ignorance
by GC42
Summary: The number of things that had to go wrong and right for their lives to end up the way they were was breathtaking. Needless to say the ends justified the means; if only barely. AU! F!Shep/Garrus, Sister!Shep/OC. Violence, language, citrus.
1. Fallen Light

This is an _extremely_ experimental story containing a heavy addition to the ME universe. Chapter 2 will have more information; this one is decidedly vague. AU in which there are no reapers.

* * *

_The number of things that had to go wrong and right for their lives to end up the way they were was breathtaking. Needless to say the ends justified the means; if only barely._

* * *

The ground dropped from beneath her feet and the sun burned out. Ada Shepard could only stand and watch the news reel as she listened to the reporter talk. _The transport cruiser, _SSV Starcutter,_ reported attack by Batarian pirates and has exited FTL at an unknown location. The cruiser is currently unable to reached by any communications. We can only hope that the _Starcutter _can hold out long enough to reach a reportable location so aid can be sent_.

Her _entire_ family was on the _SSV Startcutter_. Shepard could only hope, as the reporter had said, that they had gotten to safety. She could not fathom a life without her little sister, mother, and father, whom she had always been close to. She did want her little sister's life to be cut short like this when she especially had so much potential. Shepard was not religious, but she sent quiet requests to at least three different Gods and Turian spirits if they listened.

The door to her room opened but she ignored it. Her face was glued to the news, but her eyes were staring into nothing. Her breathing had all but halted and her heart beating.

"I heard about the… Shepard?" He was silent after seeing the look on her face, but made no move to leave. He could almost feel the bad news coming and he wanted to be there to catch her when she fell. He knew Shepard was strong, physically and mentally, but this was a whole other business. She remained standing as he sat down on her bed just behind her.

Not five minutes later she received a message on her omni-tool.

_You probably saw the news by now Ada. If we die I just want you to remember that we love you very much. We are so proud of all that you've accomplished and all that you will. We'll make it through this one, we always do._

_ -Mom, Dad, and Val_

Tears began to cascade freely. As far as Shepard was concerned they had just signed their death sentence. They were either close to death or already dead by now.

News came in about ten minutes later. _The _SSV Starcutter_ has sent back security footage. This has been the only information transmitted from the craft itself. This has been screened; it may be disturbing to some and inappropriate for children._ A wonderfully high-res and high-quality video file from one of the ship's exterior cameras showed thousands of pods being ejected into the atmosphere. The ship's exterior was being bombarded by what looked like orbital defense fire. Shepard gasped as she watched the burning descent of each and every pod interrupted by a flash of light. Whatever was attacking them was utterly merciless.

That was it. She just watched every single pod vaporize under fire. Her family was gone. She knew not she was going to do or where she was going to go anymore. Shepard's knees gave and the figure behind her was up in an instant, three years of intense Black Ops training in advanced martial arts springing to life.

Shepard's descent slowed and stopped. When some feeling returned to her skin she felt strong arms wrapped around her chest and waist, pulling her up. And she realized for a few fleeting moments that not _everything _ was lost; because she still had friend who would never leave her side. A friend who knew always when and what to speak and do. One upon whose shoulder she could cry without belying her strength.

Right now there was nothing she could really do but cry on his shoulder. She turned in his arms and rested her head against the soft skin of his neck and sobbed. From under her closed eyes, she hoped that this was a terrible nightmare. That when she opened them again everything would be back the way it was literally minutes ago, before everything had abruptly ended.

Eventually she fell asleep in the midst of gentle and caring arms.

* * *

The sirens sounded and Val was awake and up instantly. They had been briefed on procedure, but she had expected that nothing of the sort would actually occur. But it was really happening, they had been stopped mid FTL by a large object blocking their path. It had turned into a batarian pirate frigate which promptly damaged the fourth and sixth slow-flight engines. Then they had boarded just before the ship could maneuver into a safe trajectory and reenter FTL.

Alan Shepard bolted into the room carrying an assault rifle expertly at his side. As a veteran of the First Contact Conflict he had been trained in the art of its operation and had become a master. However, he saw little real action as he tried to avoid it as much as possible. He was one of the few who understood that the First Contact Conflict was a misunderstanding.

"Dad-" Val began, not wanting her father to leave her and her mother.

"It's okay sweetie," he said with a calm and soothing voice "I'm not going to leave your side to go searching for them. I'll be close, helping defend you and some other families on the way to the pod. Hannah!"

"I'm ready. Let's go!" her mother shouted from the other room of their small suite.

"Let's go" Alan seconded.

Val sighed and strapped on her omn-tool before running out of the room after her parents. She was hearing reports of some dead and the location of the pirate squads inside the cruiser. They were nowhere near where they were going so she assumed that they would be safe.

However, the roar of her father's assault rifle let them know otherwise. Two batarians dead; clean shots through their skulls. Val gasped but continued her running.

The ship rocked. Shell impact. Val tried her best to keep her composure. Their situation was looking extremely bleak. There were pirates on board, the ship was damaged, and now a third force was attacking them.

* * *

"Unknown contact, large starhship of some kind, looks damaged. Just appeared in the middle of our gravity well."

Oracle's attention snapped up. He promptly entered tunnel vision and his head spun.

_The chaste titan, Cutter of Stars, on the verge of death;_  
_Raped, rotted from the inside._  
_The disease it carries seeks to spread._  
_Fear not, for an Archlight falls from its dying heart_  
_In the midst of blackness._  
_But fear yet, for she will never love you,_  
_The way you love her._  
_O, but she will love you still_  
_With her entire being; Fallen Light._

"Damn it!" he swore. His head hurt. And that made absolutely no sense and he especially did not like the way that particular one had played out. He also wished that his overly preachy, yet gifted superconscious could be clearer. Or less painful.

He poured over the words and their potential meaning. These flashes of raw truth could pertain to any number of things at any given time. But the last two stanzas of his superconscious' prophecy directly spoke to him, which none of predictions before had. So he was involved in some way with this titan, this disease, this Archlight. This… love. That last bit was particularly difficult because as Oracle he was almost guaranteed a life without a mate. The last few had remained single. Only a few in documented history had taken mates.

He wrote that one down on his holotool and stored it away for later.

"Oracle?"

"What is going on?"

"We have attained a visual. Communication attempts have failed. We have confirmed that it is hostile; it is currently attempting to shell our planet with heavy ordinance. Orbital defenses are working to remove them as they are still in atmosphere and planetary shielding can deal with and potential blasts."

"Good. Get me a visual link."

"Yes sir."

Oracle grimaced. Something about the way his father bowed down to him obeyed his every command was off-putting. It should be the other way around, he thought. However, chain of command said nothing about age restricting respect. His father was 23 years older than he, but treated him as if he were the eldest and wisest being he knew. He was not a son to his father, but a distant and unreachable creature. Oracle did not particularly enjoy his job, but he did not despise it either.

His parents were honored that their son had been one in billions to receive the gift of foresight from the Lights. They had known because the previous Oracle had pointed it out. The old man was barely alive to make a connection with the infant Oracle and verify the gift. Oracle had been born with green eyes, but the contact from the previous Oracle had switched them to unique color: rich fiery amber. While Oracle was one of a kind, he was also alone.

Well, according to himself, that had to qualified as: alone but not for long.

* * *

Avarus Vakarian thought better than to raise a commotion when he saw his son lying on the bed holding a sleeping Ada Shepard to his chest like they were in love. But he had heard the news, and knew that Shepard had no immediate family left. Garrus had been her best friend since early childhood and still was; Avarus' mate had almost directly set that up. As much as it made him flinch to see a human in proximity to his son like that, he was content that they felt no fallout from the First Contact Conflict.

Garrus stirred and sat up, trying not to disturb the sleeping human by his side. Avarus admired his resolve when he did not as much as flinch when he saw his father standing there watching. He could see that his son trusted him not to misconstrue what he was seeing as something it was not.

Garrus set himself down on the floor and walked over, digitigrade feet making so sound against the floor. He was a killer; three years in the most intense Black Ops training known in the military

"I assume you heard about-"

"Yes."

"She has no one left."

Avarus could not believe that he was about to say what he was about to say. "She has us."

Garrus' eyes snapped to his and widened. Avarus could not decipher the emotions there.

"You're seriously suggesting that we-"

"That I am."

"I… good. She could really use the support. I've never seen her as broken before."

Avarus suppressed the urge to explain that was because she was human, but managed to put himself in her shoes. It would be hard for anyone.

"I'll talk to your mother about this and then will figure out what to do from there."

Garrus simply nodded and looked back at Shepard who had begun to toss on the bed, likely in the midst of a nightmare. Garrus stalked back over to the bed lay a hand on her shoulder. Shepard stilled under his touch and sighed before relaxing again. His son cast him a look that told him to either stay and remain quiet or leave and get to business. Avarus chuckled and left with a sigh. He could see the signs that his son had something for her. He was just nervous because she was human, and humans had a record of broken promises and deceit. It had been one of the reasons why the First Contact Conflict had dragged on for so long.

Garrus had never once showed any sign of wanting a relationship with anyone until recently. With Shepard. Changes in his attitude while around her were quite noticeable; the agitation when she talked with another member of the opposite sex, the worry when she was not around, the sidelong glances that he thought no one noticed. Garrus really tried to hide it, which was amusing.

He had always said: _There is nothing weaker than a Turian in love_. But he never completed the phrase the way he had been told as a child: _Yet there is nothing stronger._ Avarus supposed that if it had to be anyone, it would have to be Shepard. She was among the highest performing beings he knew in and outside of the classroom. And he trusted his son; whose accomplishments had blown his right out of the water. If his son wanted a human, then he could damn well have one.

"Aevia"

"Avarus."

Their foreheads met.

"I heard the news. Everyone has," she breathed, her subharmonics bursting with sadness and worry. "Little Ada… I think we should-"

"Take her in?" Avarus finished, "Garrus seemed to approve."

Aevia turned pensive, "how did she seem to be holding up." She poured herself a glass of water.

"I didn't get a change to ask Garrus. I walked in on them sleeping together and-" Avarus face was drenched.

"What?" she was shocked and Avarus had to laugh.

"Not _sleeping _together,"

"Oh I see. That's… okay good," and then under her breath, "Well, not that the alternative is any worse."

"Anyway I did not get a chance to ask about her. But I assume from how dismissive Garrus was that she's in pretty bad shape."

"Poor thing."

Aevia was feeling more the effects of this because she had been very close to Hannah Shepard during the peace accords quickly following the few skirmishes known as the First Contact Conflict. Together they formed a plan to ease tension. Highly experimental, but highly effective, the plan had been integration of human and turian families in experimental cities on planets suitable for both species. Many had opposed the idea, but they were quickly shut down by how well-repaid they were in the long run. The Humans were not nearly as terrible as many had thought.

The Vakarian and Shepard families were close in every sense of the word. They lived in the same city within walking distance from one another on Concordia, a planet more similar to Palaven than Earth but habitable by both species. Garrus and Ada had always gotten along because they complemented each other so well. She was quiet but determined. He was humorous and energetic, but reserved when he needed to be. Both were extremely sharp. They did well in conversation, shared interests and experiences. The simply got along.

Spirits if Garrus did not eventually end up with Shepard then Aevia swore she would smack him upside the head.

Aevia was currently contacting her legal advisors about some documentation that would make Shepard's staying with them legal, and the absorption of the Shepard's property guaranteed. He wanted to place that property on reserve and keep it maintained until Shepard decided to keep it or let it go.

He sent a message to his son asking about her and got a quick replay telling him that she was still asleep. Avarus prayed to the spirits that at least her dreams were pleasant.

* * *

Val Shepard screamed. Her father had taken a round to the chest and was now bleeding out. Her mother was struggling to not cry out as well as she dragged him to an empty pod. They were going to be last out. Hannah ripped part of his shirt away and pressed some medigel onto the wound and she moved him. Her omni-tool was going off telling her that his vitals were on the verge of failure.

Val's breath escaped when at the end of the room two batarians entered. They wanted the pod for themselves. They raised their pistols and fired. Three shots. Two hit Alan Shepard in the head and heart, taking away his life.

"Dad!" Val screamed, her voice now hoarse and cracking, at the same time her mother cried "Alan!" Hannah growled and glowed blue, calling on long-unused but very potent biotics to crush her enemies. The batarian on the right contorted in a shriek of pain then snapped into a grotesque angles spouting blood. The second roared and fired one more shot before his body mangled into pieces as they entered the escape pod.

Val felt something wet against her face but in her confusion and disorientation was knocked down as the pod bombed from its docking port. She watched the _SSV Starcutter_ shatter under the orbital defense bombardment from their merciless attackers.

A wet inhale next to her caught her attention.

"Mom… Mom!" Val grabbed the medigel from the pod's survival supply and looked for the wound. Right there, side of the throat, was a clean entry wound.

"No! You can't die, I can't lose you!" The vitals on her mother's omni-tool cackled. Val's eyes flooded with water. She slathered the medigel onto the tattered wound but it barely did any good.

She was rewarded with a cough, a face-full of blood, and her mother's final words.

"It's going to be okay sweetie, I love you so much," a labored breath, "you've made us so proud. I know you have the strength and wits to make it through this. We'll always be watching and supporting you, even when you can't see us," another cough, more blood, "just remember we love you,"

Hanna's soft caress of her daughter's cheek slipped away.

Vitals left and stayed out in space. Val could no longer cry as their muscles went limp. She could no longer fathom what was happening. She tried closing her eyes and using some of the techniques her therapist had taught her to exit vivid nightmares which were a common occurrence for those with her rare mental condition.

However, she came to the realization that everything happening around her was indeed quite real. She could not look back at her mother, at her memories of a time when she was not broken this way. So she looked out at the cloud of other escape pods that had begun to fall towards the planet.

A flash of light halted one burning trail, then another. Suddenly the sky was filled with the debris of pods as they were shot out of orbit. The pod closest to her vanished into nothing and she fell back. There had been _people_ in there with lives to live. Completely innocent people just as scared as she.

Val did not want to die; there were many things in life she wanted to experience. She supposed that it may not even be worth it now that everything was gone and she was headed toward the planet on which she would likely encounter the creatures utterly wiping them out.

Every time she tried to focus on the positive she found nothing and inner turmoil increased. Those who were shelling the _Starcutter_ and the pods would want her dead without a question. There was a gun in the pod's supply case. She could end her misery now and spare the likely pain to be inflicted by whatever lay on the planet's surface. Val stared blankly at the loaded pistol and then at her mother's corpse in the corner of the pod. Then she looked out at the planet below and saw visions of her home planet Concordia. The similarities were striking.

The pod analyzed the planet and gave her more than optimal conditions at her landing site; that is if she even made it. 1.3 g's surface, 1.2 atm's, 50 percent humidity, 290 kelvin. The air was slightly more oxygen rich than the air on Concordia; about 5 percent more so.

She could no longer see the orbital defenses active. Val had a sinking feeling that she was the only one left from the _Starcutter_.

And then silence split the pod into pieces. Val finally broke down and cried, the rhythm of the pod's descent a cruel lullaby. She cried until she woke up on the surface of the hostile planet.

* * *

"Oracle!" his father strode into the room, distraught and extremely worried.

"Yes Imperator Nostrom?"

"One of their shells entered the red zone."

Oracle froze. There were very few locations that their orbital defenses did not cover, but if an ordinance shell had broken through, there was no way of knowing how much damage it would wreak.

"Which one."

His father needed not say more. His subvocals told him everything he needed to know. It was the red zone that existed close to his family's personal residence, just outside of their capital city Vir'atras.

"Raise any possible defenses and tell the masses to gather in the basements of buildings. If it is a weapon, I would rather some of us be left to spread the news."

"Sir!" he heard a shout from one of the patrol agents, "We have a visual. Scans indicate that it is not a bomb. At least not a strong one."

Oracle stood and strode to the balcony from which he viewed the descending pinpoint of light. As it approached the ground it grew a great deal brighter and decelerated with calculated grace to rest out of sight. His agents were already on the way to investigate and likely dispose of the foreign object, which had been emitting electronic signals: communication attempts. His agents followed the signal closely and located the site in almost no time at all.

His eye twitched. _Fallen Light_. Oracle found it easy to apply the most recent prophecy to this event. The _chaste titan_ was the ship that attempted to attack them. _Chaste_. Impossible, because it had attacked them. It apparently carried a disease, but apparently this Archlight was rid of it; Illogical. And surely nothing from this ship could possible draw his love.

Suddenly he wanted to investigate this object himself. His agents would not have the necessary prejudice or delicacy required to pick apart the signs. If this was really an Archlight, then the last thing he wanted was for any harm to be inflicted upon it. He had his doubts; the prophecy did not fit well with the events of the day, though they were certainly connected. He scanned his superconscious for answers and found none.

He slapped together his armor and ordered his way to the site via dropship. His father cast him a look before exiting to go direct operations elsewhere. Oracle knew his father would be back with his mate at some point to check up on the situation.

He arrived just in time to see a few agents hauling off a large predator which had been harassing the metallic pod. He dropped from the ship and braced his fall, landing gracefully on the ground in the midst of his agents.

"Oracle" the crew chief saluted, but it was a half question as betrayed by his subvocals.

"Centurias."

Oracle turned and scanned the thing, with heart, mind, senses, and finally his holotool. There was definitely more to it than its exterior. The thing was taking in air through a vent on the top, which meant that there were internals that required it; either to cool or… survive. He immediately ran a vital check.

A heartbeat. Something was alive in there.

* * *

Shepard awoke with tears in her eyes. Already. Her room was dark and smelled heavily of… Garrus. She rolled over and could practically feel the resistance applied by his recent presence next to her on the bed. Now her eyes were welling up for a different reason. The situation which had seemed completely bleak now turned slightly up. There was a way out because he was still there for her. Friend seemed less and less like a word she was willing to use when referring to him, but she could never tell him that. She was positive he was not interested in her in that way.

Garrus entered the room shortly after she sat up. He was carrying a tray with a steaming bowl of something, a glass of brightly colored liquid, and some utensils.

"Good afternoon," his usual mirth was completely gone, replaced by blatant seriousness. She was seeing a side of him with which she had no experience. And it was completely distracting her from the horrific events of the other day as she began to fanaticize about being in a relationship with the only being she knew who would ever be right for her.

But he reprimanded herself. She refuse to rob him of a real functioning relationship with another deserving Turian.

He sat down on the bed next to her and handed her the tray. "Chicken noodle: your favorite." Ada offered him a smile. Of course he would know. She ate and the warmth reminded her that everything that had happened to her in a short period of time was real. She focused on her best friend's voice as he began to speak and stifled her sobs.

"Ada… I know I can't fully relate to what you're going through, but I will do my best to provide any kind of support that you may need to get through this."

Shepard paused.

"I don't know Garrus," her voice was already coming apart.

"You are the strongest person I know, Ada. I know you well enough to know that you can see the hope in an otherwise bleak situation." Shepard was beginning to question this Garrus, a completely different Garrus from the one she knew.

"I'm not going to pretend to be a therapist, but that is not going to stop me from being here when you need me."

"I just don't know what to do now that everything," she corrected herself, "now that my family is gone."

"Not quite. You still have us. You still have a future."

"I don't know if I-"

"Ada," he cut her off, "in your eighteen years among us you've already outperformed even some commanders. You've been accepted in to the Anderson Academy. I _know_ that you know what must be done. You always have. You always will. You "

She did not speak after that. He was right. Shepard could not remember, at any point, a time when a fallacy had been uttered by Garrus Vakarian.

She finished her meal, the comfort it provided already working its way into her nervous system. Garrus left with the tray and returned.

"We have attained documentation that places you under our immediate care, Ada. Welcome to the family. You'll always find home here."

He shifted on the bed and then spoke again, his tone shifting back to one more akin to the Garrus she was familiar with. "I suggest a shower and change of clothing. I think that you may be a little heavily dressed for sleep."

She raised an eyebrow, finding strength in her ability to focus on the present. On how amusingly sexual that statement was. Garrus played by heart and entered into full Garrus mode, if only for an instant.

"Watch it Ada, keep that up and my ego won't be able to handle it. Didn't know you had a thing for turians."

Her face fell. She definitely did, well just him really, and she was back to wallowing in her own sadness.

"I'll give you some privacy," he muttered and moved towards the door. Ada made it to the shower before drowning in memories of her family and sadness that she would never be able to see them again. Her mother's laugh, her father's smile, her sister's banter. Pancakes, burgers on Fridays, frequent trips to beach. Movie nights.

She accepted that the water had begun to scald her skin. She would be okay if it killed her. Too many things lost to have life worth living empty. But then there was Garrus. She stood up and bit down on her tongue as the pain flooded her system. She quickly stepped out of the path of the spray and turned the temperature down.

She changed into her typical nightwear, plain white form fitting boxers and bra, before stepping back into the bedroom. Garrus chose that exact moment to reenter and froze at the sight of her. He had completely unreadable look on his face and she caught his eyes wandering. Her entire body turned red in the grandest blush of her life because it was painfully obvious that he was checking her out. She had never been this exposed before to him. He recovered extremely quickly.

"If there's anything more I can get you, just let me know."

She lay down on the bed. More tears, already. Fuck.

"Please stay."

He let fly the most peculiar sound she had ever heard. He took a tentative step towards her.

Meanwhile Garrus' mind was racing. He was starting blur the lines between friend and something closer now with the way she was opening up and craving his presence. But there was no way things could be that convenient and he refused to take advantage of her when her thoughts were hazy with strong emotions. She needed a friend, not a lover to further play with her emotions.

But oh spirits he had never seen something quite so beautiful. He knew she was considered pretty by human standards, but now that everything was visible he did not even need confirmation from another human; she was beautiful by anyone's standards. Her trim athletic figure was just so that the muscles slightly raised the skin, speaking of power but maintaining beauty. Her torso lowered gracefully into her hips in a clean and polished curve. The swell of her chest was perfectly proportioned, in his opinion, so they did not interfere with anything.

He felt excitement as he removed some of his outer layers and climbed in the bed next to her. _So_ much contact, dear spirits he fought himself. Garrus let his arm fall across her stomach without letting it drift or trace its alluring contours. She could _never _know how much he had wanted something like this since…

He _really_ hoped she did not hear his purring.

Shepard had been trying her best not to lean into his comforting touch. Trying her best to ignore how comfortable his carapace actually was and how the muscles on his chest grazed her skin through his barely-there undershirt.

But now that he was purring like a cat, oh God why was he doing this to her. She had to forcefully tell herself that this was purely platonic, nothing more. She actually had to remind herself of all that had happened that day so that she could keep from reading too much into the situation. She needed this.

This was her recovery, even if it was never going to end up quite the way she hoped. Most importantly she could _never_ tell him how much she had wanted something like this since…

* * *

The pod came to a halt upon the surface of the unknown planet and there was silence. Val was shaking from head to toe in a dirty mixture of emotions. Fear, despair, worry, negativity. She continued to grip the pistol in her hand.

The pod began to send out an emergency homing signal, and forwarded all situational reports to her omni-tool. The pod had mapped out the terrain on the way down and had located a few sources of fresh water as well as a high point from which to plant a broadcasting beacon when safe.

Her omni-tool screamed as the pod's sensors picked up something large stalking about just outside, investigating. She held her breath but gasped when she caught a glimpse of the creature through the tiny window. A large and aggressive looking quadruped dog-raptor thing greeted her with bared teeth but did not seem to see through the actual window.

A swift movement caught her attention in the background. A very bipedal and humanoid looking thing wearing silvery armor and toting a large weapon of some kind almost literally materialized at the tree line. This knew this was her captor; one of many who had shelled the _Starcutter_. The armored creature crouched and then leapt forward, great wings expanding from its back to boost its jump.

It sailed through the air and landed upon the thing at the pod, slamming the sharpened tips of its wings long wings into the larger beasts back. She flinched when what looked like a snake snapped out of the smaller humanoid creature's throat and struck the monster, which promptly convulsed and clearly died. More of the armored things with weapons stepped out and created a perimeter.

Val had never seen either of the two species and nothing in the pod's onboard systems contained information on them. She could only watch as the bipeds grouped and faced each other. They were _conversing_. A few had glowing holograms around their wrists. So these creatures were clearly sapient, organized, highly advanced technologically, and extremely dangerous predators if the armor had made it clear enough. Hell, the one thing had not even used its huge fucking gun to kill the animal at the pod.

She sank back against the wall and covered herself with the blanket, hoping that they would go away. Val did not want them to pry and discover her because they would most likely kill her without hesitation.

Her eyes and mind wandered between her mother's rotting corpse in the corner of the pod, the horrific events of the day, the gun in her hand, and the future she could have achieved. She cried, but her tear ducts were wholly dry. She drifted off again, the emotions crushed her energy. She hoped still, that it was all just a dream and that she would wake up already.

But when she opened her eyes, she found herself staring right back at the lifeless ones belonging to her mother.


	2. Second Chance

The response I got for the first chapter was extremely endearing. Thank you for the feedback, which effectively convinced me to write this whole chapter in a day.

* * *

_There was something alive in there_…

Oracle knew he had to be extremely cautious here; if this creature had a heartbeat, it was likely an animal, a feral animal at that. Whoever was on that ship had planned on jettisoning foreign life onto their planet. Oracle growled; during unification nearly three thousand years ago, biological warfare had been deployed in the form of genetically engineered beasts which spread disease without actually feeling the effects. This could very well be the same case.

Perhaps the starship had gotten rid of the pods for a whole other reason. Perhaps they were panicked and needed them off-ship. After all, the vessel and appeared above their planet seemingly damaged already.

Something was telling him that both hypotheses were incorrect. The ship was damaged initially which gave the crew onboard incentive to want to get out of the ship. But it had not been _that_ badly damaged. At least not until they started to shell the craft.

His blood began to freeze as he approached the most logical conclusion he could think of, given the evidence. This was not some sort of weapon; this was an escape pod. Which meant that the ship had not, in any way, shown any hostility towards them. In fact, it had not returned any sort of fire to begin with; even damaged it would have been able to return some fire before any of the damage could decommission its weaponry. This was not looking good. As he was aware, vessels that had no weaponry were benign; civilian transport or freighters. The number of escape pods they had shot down, he shuddered, suggested that this was a _civilian _ship. But something had to be onboard the ship to cause these pods to jettison.

So either that evil thing that caused the problem was in the pod or a civilian of some kind. Or an animal; there was no way of knowing. Either way, whatever it was had to be smaller than the pod itself unless he was unaware of some kind of advanced tech.

Whatever was in there was not carrying any kind of disease according to scans, his holotool would have picked that up exiting the pod's ventilation system. That ruled out biological warfare. The heartbeat was relatively fast as well, which he equated to smaller creature, likely smaller than he. If it was, then there really was not much danger. Oracle could hold his own against predators five times larger than he without even clearing his eye.

He was taking a risk, but if they wanted to gain any sort of knowledge about what they were dealing with, the pod would have to be opened. He was willing to take this risk. He had forty agents behind him with anti-material rail drivers.

"Centurias!"

"Sir!" the agent snapped to attention when he called.

"See that?" he outlined what was clearly a door using his visor and pushed the outline to his agent.

"Yes sir."

"Get a team to cut that out with a precision laser and then get on standby. Whatever is in there cannot stand up to the many of us."

"Yes sir," the Centurias' subvocals were only wavering slightly in concern. He turned and began shouting orders to his team. Oracle stood back and waited as several of his Agents stepped forward and began their incision. The others primed and readied their weapons in the event that whatever was inside was dangerous and attacked. Oracle was intrigued that the vitals inside the pod were climbing; this creature was awake and smart enough to know what was going on. That immediately earned it a slot amongst the more dangerous predators on their planet; the ones that were nearly self-aware but not quite so.

One of his tech Agents addressed him, "Sir."

"Agent,"

"I have run some signal scans. That thing is definitely trying to communicate with something, but with what I cannot tell. However, if it counts for anything its communication architecture is incredibly complex. Clearly multiple levels of encryption. If it was not already obvious by the ship design, whoever designed this pod is at our level of technology. Well higher."

"Right. Thank you Agent."

"Sir."

_Well higher_. That got Oracle thinking. They had achieved spacefaring craft over three thousand years prior; but after they had seemingly maximized the efficiency of their drives, they could not break the light barrier. This vessel, wherever it had come from, simply appeared without warning. Not even the buoys at the edge of their system had registered its entry, and those were QEC-based. If there had been any signal of this vessel's approach, they would have noticed instantly.

Faster than light had been the proverbial enormous splintery tree trunk up the tiny rectum of science since the discovery of the speed of light as a physical barrier. This vessel would hopefully have the answer to the oldest problem in the archive. He checked in briefly with his father, asking about current operations.

"Imperator Nostrom," Oracle greeted in the formal.

"Yes Oracle,"

"The ship that we crippled, are skeleton crews investigating it?"

"Yes."

"Tell them to be careful; there could be any number of fatal ends in that vessel."

"Already have sir. We have our top Agents on it right now."

"Thank you."

"Sir," then his father was off-screen.

He knew everything was going to be different and there was no going back from now. Their likely discoveries would put them into the galaxy and open windows of opportunity. It would also throw them into an advanced and hostile galaxy, if what happened aboard the alien vessel was anything to go by. He would make sure they as a people were prepared well to make the journey.

"Oracle!" The Centurias called suddenly, ripping him from his trance.

"Yes Centurias?"

"They've completed their incision."

"Line! Standby!" he commanded. The Agents moved swiftly and perfectly to form lines behind him and primed their weapons.

"Open it."

* * *

Ada Shepard had no dreams at all that night; a welcomed break from the chaos and ruin that was her life. When she woke she was still heavy with sleep and rather unaware of her surroundings. Her mind put her body back in her bed at home, and for a few delirious moments she relived what it was like when her family was still alive.

She hummed and smiled and rolled over against the softest and possibly most comfortable pillow she had ever had the pleasure of lying against. She snuggled closer to it and it seemed to snuggle back, warming her through and through. Shepard was able to marvel that she was feeling happiness so soon after… suddenly she was awake enough to realize that she was definitely _not_ in her bed at home. And that pillows this comfortable could not possibly exist. She could remember staying at the Vakarian's and-

"Um…" she heard Garrus' voice from above her, the vibrations of multiple sets of vocal cords rumbling through her skull.

Yeah. The pillow was secretly Garrus but it had not mentioned anything about that until now. Currently her blushing skin made a tomato look colorless as she released her lovers' grasp and moved away from him with a gasp.

"G- Garrus! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Don't see me apologizing do you?" he said with the _creamiest_ possible tone he could muster, the smirk was only present through his words, "Good morning by the way. I gathered you slept well?"

"Yeah, uh... Thank you Garrus," she said softly. Now she was feeling guilty for using him like that.

Her temporary light was now dimming. She was about ready to belly-flop into a tar pit of negativity. Garrus pulled himself out of the bed, a talon lingered on her skin _slightly_ too long and she noticed it instantly. If it had been even slightly shorter, it would not have set her off.

Oh fuck. Garrus knew he had completely obliterated his "platonic" cover with that last gesture. Hell he had not even meant it to come out that way; he had not meant to touch her at all. And the way she froze was enough evidence to convince him she felt it as well.

He focused on making it look intentional; not drawing his talon away too quickly nor too slowly. Three years of Black Ops training channeled into one seemingly insignificant movement. It seemed to work because the tension fell from her shoulders.

Shepard swore she was misconstruing things because the way he drew back seemed to absent minded and innocent. Whatever forward progress she had made convincing herself that Garrus could ever want something more with her probably died promptly. Another dead thing in her life. She silently wept as he exited the room.

Shepard knew she was supposed to be better than this; and feeling bad for herself and her own problems was selfish but she could not help it. It was like losing a leg; it was a physical restriction and walking would never be the same again. That was exactly what applied to this situation. Because no matter how much she knew she could try, _living_ would never be the same.

Garrus' father walked in and flinched a little but kept his composure. Shepard still noticed and could only wonder what he was thinking.

Avarus' nose twitched. Not only was Shepard nearly completely naked, but she smelled of his son. And embarrassment. And sexual tension, _dear spirits_. He decided not to tell her anything and could only hope that she would shower off before going into public like that. He mentally prepared himself to outright tell her if she did not decide to shower; just to spare her the scorn of the public.

"Sorry I didn't knock. I just wanted to remind you that Anderson Academy starts in a few days Shepard. Do you think you'll be well enough to start the year? We can always-"

"I'll be fine," she cut him off. This was her last attempt at normalcy; hard work at Anderson would take her mind off of everything. But the way he was talking to her now, she could see her father's face over his, smiling warmly at her. It would not have worked with anyone else; just the way he spoke to her was strikingly similar to her own father's demeanor and tone. She knew not whether to feel the loss of her father, or the gain of another.

* * *

A rumble penetrated the metal of the pod. A flying vehicle had approached the site and hovered for a while above the area before another one of those things dropped down, gracefully landing on its feet and using its wings to brake its fall, amber colored wing membranes snapping out momentarily before disappearing. This one was slightly smaller than the others, but the way it commanded respect deterred any notion that it was any less capable.

She had never seen these before in her life, nor did her omni-tool gave any information regarding them.

It was not wearing a helmet which gave her a glance at its face. Its head was roughly proportioned like a human male's. Its skin was scaly, rock grey in color with darker strips of camouflage running around its neck and partially up onto the skull. It had four mandibles, and upper set and a lower set, which reminded her somewhat of a Turian's. The upper set swept back, almost to the back of its head, which explained why it was not wearing a helmet. It also had a split dividing its lower jaw and lip into halves much like a Drell's. Val was not sure if that served a purpose besides just looking like a split. On the top of its head were five fringe-looking things, almost like a Turian's, but these were sectioned into three parts each. The longest of the three sections, the rearmost ones, jutted out behind the head a little ways.

Its eyes really freaked her the fuck out. They were just a solid color, like a precious stone, embedded into the skull. Val could not quite tell due to the presence of so ambient light, but they looked as if they were glowing. They were same color as the membranes that had folded out from the long armatures on its back: deep searing amber. It _never_ blinked, and it was impossible to tell where it was looking because there were simply no pupils or irises there.

It turned and started to converse with some of the other ones. Others were clustered in groups and milling about. She counted exactly forty. Forty-one including this latest addition.

Suddenly there was activity. One that the smaller one had been "talking" to turned and appeared to shout something the direction of one of the groups. Those in the group, four of them, snapped to attention and moved towards the pod. Her breath lodged in her throat and her heart rate began to climb.

They approached the outside of the pod and stopped a few feet from the door. Val backed away quickly, unsure if they had seen anything through the one-way thermal glass. Two of them pulled some pistol sized things from behind their backs and pointed at the seam that separated the door from the pod. A sizzling noise erupted and a pinpoint of light inched through the metal. It stopped in midair for a second, jolted forward then back a few times then came to rest about where it had started. Then a beam connected that point to what she assumed was the end of the device on the outside the pod, creating a blade of light. They were going to cut the door out.

Her heart was now in her throat and she was breathing faster and faster. The laser knives made their way around the door seal slowly, inching along, counting down the time she had left before they got to her. Val grasped the pistol in a shaky hand and made sure it was ready to fire. She adjusted the ammo and power consumption settings to their maximums so it would fire the heaviest possible slug and deal the highest possible damage. She pulled the blanket over herself and hoped it would be enough to hide from them.

The sizzling stopped, but her heartbeat had completely drowned out the sound of the cutters. A slight hiss sounded as the air pressure inside the pod and outside equalized. Val barely noticed that it suddenly became easier to breathe, because she was trying not to.

She gasped and jumped when the corpse shifted a little in the corner. She bit back a cry of sadness, whishing her mother was alive to comfort her and tell her it was going to be okay. She had tried, on multiple occasions to talk with her before remembering that she was dead.

Suddenly a very loud and very clearly organic noise caught her attention and she gripped the pistol in her hand tighter.

"_Latus! Transus!"_ The sound of forty feet moving in unison drowned out her thoughts before silence once more.

That was definitely coherent speech. Val was momentarily distracted by its rich and beautiful multi-toned quality. It was nothing like a Turian's or a Drell's; this had way more layers of sound added in, and parts of the words sounded as if they were morphing into others. There was also a range of frequency unheard of in any other animal. That last command had been punctuated by a brief high-pitched whistle, like a bird.

Anything to distract her from that fact that she was about to be killed. Why else would they be trying so hard to break into the pod?

Val heard the smaller one murmur something, its voice sounded like the wind, the words shimmered. The four things at the door wrenched it away.

* * *

The door came off and the innards of the pod were revealed. Oracle could feel the tension in the muscles of the ten Agents directly behind him in the front rank. The four that had pried open the door leapt back and drew their own weapons.

His infrared sense was not picking anything up in particular, because the pod was rather uniformly conditioned to the same temperature, which was a little higher that the local. There seemed to be nothing in there, but the vitals were still climbing. Whatever was alive was hiding from them, which meant that it was very likely afraid. Although, some animals that hid did so strategically, and were still incredibly vicious.

A heap of cloth in the corner shifted and the discharge of a rail driver immediately followed, ramming a foot and a half long spike through the thin sheet and into the metal behind it. Oracle was furious, but he never actually gave a cease fire order. Too bad he was too overwhelmed to say anything before he roared, splitting his jaw. His alluring crown flared and his abnormally large wing armatures spread and slammed the entire front line back before anyone else got the idea to shoot at the thing which had done nothing to attack.

"Hold your fire you scum!" he shouted at them furious, "one more shot and I kill every single one of you!" he growled.

"On our honor, Sir!" chorused the crowd before snapping back into formation. He could see the bundle shift again. Luckily the shot had hit nothing but the cloth. He checked the vitals and they were double what they had been before the shot was fired. The creature in the pod would die if the trend continued this way; that was dangerously high compared to what it had been before they opened the pod. Or so he assumed by proportion.

Oracle took one step and smelled something foul. He scrunched up his nose; the stench was really quite horrible but the natural ventilation of the wind was carrying it away quickly. He recognized the smell and supposed it was universal; because death always smelled like death. He feared for the thing already in there and checked the vitals again, which had plateaued. He guessed that if he had a heartbeat it would be pretty high as well.

Death. Now there was a whole other matter affecting his doubts. He could not see how any other conclusion besides the alive thing killed another alive thing which was now dead. But something was missing because stench was far too powerful; the corpse would still be there which meant the creature had not killed for survival; to eat it. He did not, however, see a dead body in there.

He stepped forward, placing primary concentration on the pile of cloth while doing his best to ignore the foul odor. His hearing picked up very quick breathing when he was about ten feet away. He could faintly make out the heartbeat with his own hearing. He turned off his vital scanner and stepped up onto the ledge of the pod and, without hesitation, tore the cloth covering away.

* * *

Ada Shepard smelled something amazing coming from the kitchen of the Vakarian's kitchen. Breakfast. She was starved; a natural powerful biotic burned through energy extremely quickly. But so did the experiences of the previous day.

Shepard was quite familiar with this space, she had been over hundreds of times, but something was different now. It was so much more quiet and personal and intimate. There was glass of what was probably orange juice on the table and a place set. Human utensils lay there simply served to remind her of home; mornings spent with her family. The aroma currently wafting in from the other room smelled exactly like

"Pancakes," Garrus announced as he swooped in with a plate and set it down in front of her. Shepard complained to herself that it _wasn't fair_. Garrus was ruining her life be being so damn inerrant and perfect but unachievable by being a different species altogether. She wondered how long he had been able to cook and hoped that at least the food was not very good so that there was some excuse to not feel any kind of massive less-than-platonic attraction. She needed to focus on her upcoming challenge of school and nothing else; it was the only way to move on that she could see.

They already even had butter and maple syrup on them and sadness swelled within her when she downed a bite. They tasted _exactly _the same as her mother's pancakes.

Garrus feared he had done something wrong the way her eyes watered when she took the first bite. Part of his intensive study at Black Ops had been to train his mind to recognize what did and did not smell good to other species, including humans. He had never really asked why they learned this, but he assumed that it would eventually come in handy. Right now it seemed like maybe it had all been for nothing. But he _had_ followed the recipe perfectly, and they _had_ smelled quite nice. He knew Shepard loved pancakes.

"Aw, I knew I must've messed something up," he said with humor on his subharmonics. He was not really concerned if she did not like them, they had more staple levo foodstuffs in their household that did not require any sort of special preparation. He found it more amusing that anything that she was just trying to down the things, perhaps just to be polite.

"No, you didn't, they're amazing," she said softly, "damn it. I can't even eat fucking breakfast without being reminded of them. I'm hopeless." Shepard set down her fork and planted her forehead into her palm.

Garrus' mandibles fell slack as he realized his mistake. He shifted forward and his subharmonics trilled in worry and regret.

"I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking-"

"It's not your fault. I'm still having difficulties keeping myself together."

Garrus had to ask himself if she really just said that.

"Yah and I think you're just so weak because you feel the events of yesterday," he said with more shock that sarcasm. She gave him a confused and worried glance.

"Shepard, I would be far more concerned if you did _not_ have difficulties keeping yourself together after what happened. I'm not going to judge you when you do; I know you far too well for that," Oh and he knew far more, perhaps, that she thought he knew.

Shepard felt a combination of welcomed comfort in his words and distraction at the sound of his purring voice. She had always known him to be cocky and confident, but right now he was so… just the opposite.

"Where did you learn to cook?" She asked offhandedly, as long as it would get him to talk and give her something to focus on.

"Black Ops. They make sure that you can make the best possible meals with the least and worst possible ingredients. Good survival technique. So when given decent ingredients, hell, put me in a five star restaurant."

Shepard grinned for a moment before sagging halfway back down to melancholia.

"So," he started, "anything in particular you want to do today. I'm up for anything, but I was planning on going down to the range and keeping my sniping skills sharp. I know you're an artist with an assault rifle.

Garrus' sister walked in through the door at that moment, carrying a duffle bag and wearing pricy armor. Garrus sighed, she liked to drop in without warning and most of the time their parents were gone when she did.

"Hey Sol," Garrus greeted. Solana said nothing, walked right past him, and hugged Shepard who jumped in surprise. Sol was keening.

"Sorry I couldn't be here sooner. I was in the middle of finals when I got the news. How are you doing? Is Garrus' cooking bothering you?"

Sheprad actually chuckled, which caused his heart to stop. That was in itself, a miracle. He was lucky that his sister's demeanor had not changed like his had

"I'm okay."

"Right now? No you aren't," Sol said. She was very good at reading people. She could practically feel the pain currently raping her brother's best friend.

"I suppose you're right," she sighed, "school should help out, take my mind off of things."

Solana knew Shepard would have to crash in burn before she recovered. She had studied psychology in school enough to know recovery did not come without a lowest point, which for Shepard, had yet to arrive. She wondered what was keeping it so long. Because the longer the delay of that crash, the worse it would be. Solana guessed that even she as not denying the events that occurred, what was happening in her head was very similar to denial.

"Yeah," Solana said softly. She cast a worried look at her brother who caught it.

Garrus wondered what was going through her head. Solana was extremely intelligent; she had finished school a year ahead and was currently in basic at the age of fourteen. Not the ideal environment, but she could still kick the crap out of turians twice her size. That was a built in Vakarian trait. Solana aspired to become an engineer; Garrus could not see her in any other field.

He turned his focus back to Shepard who had finished up the food he had made. He removed her plate and utensils and stuck them in the dishwasher. Solana was gone and Shepard was rubbing her forehead when he returned to the table. He squeezed her shoulder affectionately. She cringed at his touch.

"You still up for some target practice?"

Her head turned and her eyes finally focused on him.

"Yah sure."

"Do you mind if Sol comes along with us?"

"Not at all."

Garrus wracked his brain trying to figure out why she sounded so disappointed.

* * *

Nowhere to hide, nowhere to run. Val Shepard began her shockingly short list of goodbyes. She regretted not having said goodbye to her mother while she was breathing her last. Val's chest heaved involuntarily.

An extremely loud noise ripped apart the silence, accompanied by a metal rail, now lodged in the wall of the pod, just above her chest. She gasped at the unexpected attack and tried to flatten herself even more, hoping that they maybe they mistook the movement as an accidental shift brought on by the wind. The shot had slightly shifted the cloth and gave her a tine slit through which to peer out the door of the pod.

The slightly smaller creature in the front roared, fanning the fringes on its head and snapping out the hidden membrane there. It was disgusting and terrifying the way its mandibles and jaw fanned out. Its mouth was lined with perfectly aligned razors.

Val squinted her eyes and saw that there was _another_ part to the jaw; a small sub-jaw that split around where the jaw met the throat. She flashed back to a few hours previously when one of those creatures wearing a jawless helmet had euthanized the much larger beast with what looked like a snake, which had appeared from around that area of the neck. The amber-eyed one seemed to have a tongue, but it was only as long as its mouth allowed for. She did notice that it had two small protrusions on the tip capped off by small glints of white.

Her scrutiny was cut off when it slammed the whole line of others down on their back with a swoop of its immense wings.

It went on to shout something at those behind it. They shouted the same word in unison: "_Val'en,Vael! _" She went pale. That without a doubt _her name_ they had just all shouted at the same time. If it was not at all obvious beforehand, it was even more so now: they were going to kill her. She tried to force some thought and logic on it because it did not make any sense that they could have known about her. She calmed herself as much as possible and convinced herself that it was simply a word in their language. Which was really awkward.

She watched it rotate its head back towards the pod, seeming to look straight at her through the miniscule slit in the blanket.

Then he started walking towards her without hesitation. Her breathing and heart rate raced faster. At about twenty feet from the pod he recoiled and seemed to scowl, in disgust. He had picked up the scent of Hannah's now empty manifestation, which had become quite unbearable in the short period of time she had been dead.

He did not stop advancing however, and when he got to about ten feet from the pod he pulled something up on his holographic interface before closing it again. His head cocked slightly and then he continued on his march, one foot planted each time closer to her fate.

Val expected a heart attack when it stepped one armored, three-toed, digitigrade foot into the pod right beside the where the cloth met the metal floor. It was far too late now, Val knew it was aware of her exact location. She gripped the pistol so hard her knuckles turned to bone.

It leaned in.

Then the blanket was gone.

Val expected the worst and said one last goodbye.

Oracle stared at the small creature below him and took in its features. It was Sicarianoid in proportions and architecture, but lacked any kind of armatures apart from its arms and legs. It was wearing some dirty-looking coverings, giving him the rising suspicion that this animal was actually sapient. The skin that showed was beige, much like those Sicarians from the desert. However, it was not scaly like theirs, but looked rather smooth like silk.

Thousands of long tiny fringes spouted from its head, and their limp nature led him to the conclusion that they were not prehensile and therefore not dangerous, at least not right now. It had no mandibles, no jaw split, and no alternate exit for the tongue. Instead of just a bottom lip, there was an upper as well much like a female of his species.

Its eyes were strikingly beautiful, even if they were like those of an animal. Cobalt irises reminded him of the color of the sky, or electricity, or the ocean in some parts. The pupils were dilated and scrutinizing him. Everything was so alien.

He glanced down and noticed the swell of its chest. They were mostly covered, but there were clearly breasts. Sicarian females had them, so no difference there. He connected that with the graceful curves of the body and, for lack of a better description, feminine face. His superconscious was reading her as well, confirming this by picking up on the pheromones she was giving off which were close to identical to those of Sicarian females.

He safely assumed that this animal was female.

And if she were Sicarian, she would be extremely beautiful. An _Archlight_.

She was shaking. Oracle would even go as far as deeming it a seizure.

Currently she was holding something against his neck. He did not have to look down to know it was a gun.

Val thought the creature had seemed short in comparison to the others, but it towered over her, she guessed 2 meters what its full height when standing erect. _Good God_ that meant that the others were _really _tall.

Now that his features were right in her face, Val was able to get a good look at her likely killer, searching for a weak spot. Not that it would do any good with the forty others currently training their weapons on her. She was trying her best to keep the gun steady and show no fear despite the embodiment of it staring at her.

It growled and snatched the gun from her hand so fast she barely had time to react. Val had no more defenses left and simply decided to turn her back and speak something to her mother before it had a chance to silence her.

Oracle watched her curl away and wither like a dying plant. She was not a savage predator; no fight, flight, or fight harder mechanic seemed present. She was accepting death. No non-sapient animal that he knew of was capable of that mental process.

Then it made some noise from its mouth; Oracle immediately noticed an absence of subvocals. Nonetheless, the sound was warm and rich and sounded _very _self-aware to him. His superconscious started analyzing it immediately for patterns. Oracly was now fully convinced she was sapient.

His guts twisted at the thought that they had shot thousands of them down without giving them any kind of chance. Well except one.

"Goodbye mom," her eyes were now glazed over, "dad, Ada. Hell, I won't forget you Avarus, Aevia, Solana, and Garrus. I wish I had said something before you left, but it won't be long now. I just hope it isn't painful. But it probably will be. I love you all so much."

She turned back around and faced her killer. She was ready.

Oracle noticed that her eyes were watering when she turned back, but that did not get to him as much how different her posture was now that she considered herself dead. Her vitals had sunk. He could tell she had convinced herself that he was going to kill her and went right ahead and accepted her fate.

Sicarians became capable of understanding advanced concepts such as life and fate around the age of five. So: young. Oracles highly advanced superconscious was telling him that she was much older than that based on her pheromones and build. He placed her as mature enough to understand what he was planning to do next. He could only hope that holding out his hand, palm up, was not an offensive or threatening gesture in her species' culture.

Val stared at its outstretched hand, her mind twisting and writhing at the sight of five fingers, but two opposable thumbs on either side of the palm. She looked back up at its unblinking eyes which, if anything, had dimmed in their intensity resulting in a softer gaze. The flick of a mandible caught her attention. She took that mean nervousness; turians did that as well.

It was _nervous_ that she would not accept.

Val could only hope as she accepted the universal sign of peace that was not secretly a death warrant, some kind of acceptance to let him eat her or something.

She was thrown right off-guard by the feel of his skin, soft yet smooth and scaly, but even more so in the overwhelming tenderness conveyed in the way he passed one of his two thumbs over her hand, and then the other. She wanted to smile and laugh; she was being offered a second chance. She thought better of it, however, because baring her teeth would likely be received poorly.

Instead she smiled, the corners of her lips raising and eyes crinkling at the edges. Oracle did not want to smile back, fearing that baring his teeth would appear threatening. She breathed out, closed her eyes, and leaned back.

_Lights Above_! Oracle may have been the most highly regarded and powerful of all Sicarians, but he _was_ sixteen and single, and what she had just done was extremely erotic. And it did not help that she was exotically beautiful, despite being completely alien and completely unknown. He forced himself to remember that she did _not_ know what that meant to him.

He got his face out of hers and prepared for a bumpy ride.

* * *

Some important notes:  
The Sicarian species belongs to friend of mine. I'm obsessed with them and wanted to write them into mass effect. Those fics like Sound the Clarion present a completely unknown world in which one is the midst of many and must fly nearly completely blind. I wanted a context for that. I hope that you as a reader feel engaged in wanting to know more about the Sicarians and their culture.

This is not Oracle, but its what an average Sicarian looks like: fav"dot"me/d67z9f3  
(Replace "dot" with '.')


	3. Communication

Thank you all for the continued interest. I never really expected it would be received with such positivity. My friend is flattered BTW.

* * *

The three rode silently in the skycar to the shooting range reserved for Black Ops operatives. Garrus had brought his own Verys A-Custom, the latest and most powerful model of Turian sniper rifle available, which had been awarded to him for his sniping mastery at Black Ops. He would grant Shepard and Solana access to whichever restricted Black Ops weaponry they so desired.

He hoped he was doing the right thing. Shooting targets always had a cathartic effect on him and if he knew anything, it would have the same effect on Shepard. Solana, maybe not so much, but she loved to marvel at the Black Ops weaponry as feats of technology and craftsmanship.

The three checked into the range under Garrus' ID and were directed to three adjacent lanes. He directed Shepard over to the armory which was being run by a quiet young dark-skinned Turian enlist with minimal facial markings. He appeared to have no reaction when he glanced up and saw that human was there. The Alliance had a high-priority range across the city; it was not uncommon that humans showed up at the Black Ops range by mistake. However, this human was clearly friends with the Turian. And something was telling him that he had seen her face around before.

His eyes widened a little as he recognized who that Turian actually was. The Vakarian markings had made it around since the First Contact Conflict. Every member in the family was famous for something it seemed: A well-known and respected general, one of the key peacemakers, and more recently a military and mechanical prodigy. Any friend of the famous Garrus Vakarian was a friend of his. He smiled. She looked out of it, but maybe he was just bad at reading human expressions.

"What can I get you ma'am?" he said politely to the human, but it came out perhaps a little too sultry. Vakarian's mandible twitched. Oh so they were… _like that_. He backed off. There were maybe two or three human-Turian couples in their city, but none of them involved Garrus fucking Vakarian. He waited while she scanned through the digital catalogue and selected one of their heavier Black Ops restricted assault rifles. He decided not to ask for fear that talking to her would draw a negative response from her obvious boyfriend.

Garrus watched as he turned and grabbed the rifle Shepard had selected, loaded it with a thermal mag, and handed it over the desk to her. He then handed her some extra mags for more shots.

Shepard took the large rifle in her hands, the weight was reassuring and felt comfortable. She had not kept up with practice during her break between high school and Anderson. She broke off and headed toward her lane where she prepared to fire. She caught herself thinking about how she was not dwelling on the events from yesterday and immediately began to dwell on the events from yesterday. Shepard waited in silence and half-formed tears for Garrus and his sister to take their places.

"And for you," the young armory master purred when he directed his attention to the beautiful young Turian standing next to Vakarian with silvery grey skin and blue markings… He had just shot himself in the other foot; that was his sister and Garrus did not seem too amused.

"I'll take the biggest rifle you have," she purred back not even checking the catalogue, "I prefer _big guns_."

Garrus groaned. His sister, like he, was a shameless flirt. At fourteen. She often tricked others in to thinking she was older mainly because she was so good at it. He hoped the other Turian would understand that.

"Right away," he said with a clipped tone, not taking the bait. Garrus commended his quick thinking.

They set up in their lanes. Garrus punched the button for the easier, 1 kilometer targets and set up his shot. Once he fired his first and hit the thing dead center, Solana and Shepard began launching rounds at their targets. Garrus monitored their hit to miss ratio on his visor out of curiosity as he fired another round, this time at a 2.5 km target. Another perfect shot.

Shepard shouldered her rifle and sent some rounds downrange. Her arms were a little shaky and most of her shots missed. The last time she had been at the range it had not been this bad; she usually hit close to the center every time, even with less-than-decent rifles. This was a top end rifle; it practically aimed itself. She growled and tried to focus. She continued to miss. She blamed her inability on her instability, and everything seemed to remind her that the galaxy was far darker than it was light.

Dare she brave the path? That depended if it was worth trying to fly so blind and so crippled.

And while on the topic of guns; suicide. Shepard had always thought of suicide as reserved for the weak; those who did not possess the proper strength to endure a difficult life. But the recent change in her life had provided her with perspective. Now that she could relate, she only saw liberation, if anything. Because in a life that only took things away, Shepard failed to find any room for hope and happiness.

She set the gun upon the small ledge, and then leaned forward with her elbows planted on the ledge. She heaved a sigh and decided to switch to closer targets. She began to hit the center with greater frequency.

Garrus noticed that Shepard's hit to miss ratio was far worse than he had ever seen it. He was about to get up and investigate when it jumped up and seemed to improve. Garrus shook his head, assuming that she was just out of practice, and moved onto the farthest target provided: a 10 km. He hit it dead center.

A group of Turians, male and female, wandered in took up a few lanes. Some had grouped close to his lane talking quietly about something. Garrus ignored them and decided to try a standing shot rather than a stationary one. He shifted his weight forward on his left leg, sinking down a little so that his knees and angles would allow the recoil to pass through his body and into the ground instead of his shoulder.

He sucked in a breath and fired. The shot hit a few millimeters off from the first, but it was still a kill shot. The crowd behind him seemed to come to a conclusion and backed away slightly.

"Impressive shot," a silky smooth female voice purred from just behind him. She sounded quite… _impressed_. Garrus turned around and saw a very pretty female Turian whose slender fringe gave her a dangerous and rebellious edge. Two could play at this game.

"I aim to please," Garrus replied with an equally buttery voice that melted Shepard's heart and knees. As well as every other female's in the crowd behind him. Shepard reminded herself that he was _just flirting, _something he did all the time. She tried but failed to focus on her target, which she had been successfully moving back while maintaining her normal hit to miss ratio. She had nearly put the thing back at it initial position. The Turians milling about back there were talking in hushed tones to each other. She swore she heard a male voice say "gotta write this down."

"You can certainly aim, but I would have to see some evidence that you can please."

Shepard did not like where this was going. She missed a shot.

"Hmm…" he purred, "what did you have in mind?"

"I've heard plenty about you Vakarian; I was thinking we could test your reach… and my flexibility."

Shepard missed three more shots and felt a little sick. Not because they were clearly talking about sex, but because it served as yet another reminder of a lost cause in her life.

"I do quite like the sound of that," his face was inches from the other Turian's and her mandibles were quivering, Shepard tried not to stare. This was Garrus in full destroy-women mode; he never used it in conversation with her. Never. "But I'm going to need a name. I'd be a shame if such a pretty thing like yourself went nameless."

"Nyreen," she breathed, obviously having trouble containing herself, "Kandros."

"Okay then, Nyreen Kandros, shall we proceed?"

She nodded rapidly, mandibles fluttering. She had to clamp her jaw shut in order to suppress the urge to shout "shut up and fuck me sideways" when there were other people using the range and her group of friends standing close by watching intently. They were only going to spar. Maybe if she tried she could coax him into something a bit more… intense.

Garrus knew she wanted sex, he could smell the arousal all over her. It was doing quite a service to his carefully maintained ego, which he kept high enough to play the game, but not so high that he became ignorant of it. She would be disappointed when he rejected her at the end of their match regardless of what happened. Just like he rejected any female that attempted to step in his way. He was not that shallow, and despite Turians being so causal about sex he considered himself "in a relationship."

He was committed, even if she was not, and the day he cheated on her was the day he died.

The Turian at the armory eyed them as they walked inside the on-site gym to a sparring ring. Apparently he had been wrong about Vakarian and his human "friend."

Meanwhile Shepard gaped. She had kind of always thought of Garrus as deeper than that, not someone who would just pick up some quick fuck because she looked "pretty," as he had put it. In under an hour, Garrus had gone from thoughtful caring friend to unreachable god among mortals living in a world completely apart from her own. Her feeling of isolation only grew and hollowed her out.

Solana brushed past her shoulder.

"C'mon Shep, Garrus is going to spar. She sounded like a total hothead too. I want to watch him take her down a notch."

Shepard stared at nothing for a moment, not absorbing the meaning of Solana's words at all, before following after her. Solana stalked right up to the counter and said something flirty that Shepard did not quite catch, which caused the other Turian to shift a little uneasily. Shepard followed, returning her rifle and thanking the Weapons master on the way.

The Turian at the counter chanced a look. The human looked so disappointed and depressed. She must genuinely love Vakarian, because no pure friend looked _that_ dejected when the other friend hooked up for just a casual fling.

* * *

Oracle remembered the dead body when he was finally focused enough to find other scents besides Fallen Light's actually quite pleasing one. He turned and looked at it, stuffed in one corner and just out of sight to those outside of the pod. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Fallen Light watching him. Hers were now glazed with a thin film of liquid. When she blinked a tear rolled from one corner.

The body was another of her species, and looked very similar but older; a slightly more developed facial structure, larger in size, slightly crisper muscles underneath the skin, all the clues that pointed him to think this one was older were present. He heard a faint whimper from her, but unlike the ones from before which stank of fear, these felt sorrowful. This body belonged to someone close to her, and the similarities in features led him to believe that they were directly related.

There was a wound on the neck which reminded Oracle that Fallen Light had been in possession of a gun. One which was now being reverse engineered. Now he was unsure. If Fallen Light had shot the other then he wanted to know why. However, he highly suspected that she had not and that the fatal gash had come from another source. Or perhaps this _disease_ mentioned in the prophecy had infected the body when it had been living so Fallen Light had been forced to defend herself.

Oracle knew that an autopsy would give them extremely valuable information about her living counterpart; he wanted to make sure Fallen Light survived, but they needed to know how that could be possible. However, he refused to simply take the body without attempting to "ask" the small female. Even if it would be somewhat untruthful, it was best she did not know that they were going to run some…tests, before giving her a burial and marking the location. They respected their dead in Sicarian culture, quite a lot. The ceremony depended on the region of origin, but they never simply ripped up a body and then threw it out.

The creature pointed at her mother's corpse and then made a clutching motion. Val figured it out quickly. It wanted to take her mother away. Val could only imagine what it was thinking of doing with the body. It clearly sensed her hesitation, brow ridges raised slightly. It cocked its head and then its holotool flared. It quickly snapped a 3D scan of the body which he dragged into a sleek holographic casket. It pulled up a video file next to it that showed an ornate box being lowered into the ground. Her omni-tool certainly could not do any of that; it was limited to two dimensional holograms and only supported a few layers.

Val gaped for another reason. There was no way to mistake that for something else. But now there was a chance that she could get off the planet, and if she did, she preferred that her mother to be properly buried back home on Concordia.

Although, it would serve a symbol here, and if they truly wanted to make peace with this species, there needed to be proof that they were capable of advanced sapience and not just cold logic. And, in the likely possibility that Val did not escape, which was becoming higher and higher with every passing second, she wanted a reminder for herself; a resting place from which her mother could watch over her.

Val new her mother would have wanted to be here and more tears dropped. She had always been extremely tolerant and quick to befriend others. She had heard stories from Garrus' mother about how amicable Hannah Shepard was even when they did not yet now each other's languages. Val supposed it was her job to carry on the legacy. So far she seemed to be doing well.

Fallen Light nodded. Oracle did not understand the gesture. However when she pointed to the body and made a pushing towards him motion, he knew she was giving him permission to take it. He catalogued the nod as a sign of ascent or agreement. He noticed that his Agents were getting antsy and he need a team to retrieve the body anyway.

"No threat here. I need a corpse recovery team."

"Yes Sir!" his tech Agent called and immediately contacted a transport.

The air had seemed to clear between them enough for Oracle to attempt some more communication.

Val watched it open up the holotool again and push the images and models previously there away creating a blank slate. She focused, knowing that it going to try to tell her something. The device snapped a 3D scan of her face, brought up model of the creature's, and what looked like a very large and modern mansion poised on the top of a tiered hill. His fingers danced gracefully as it drew a prism around their avatars and the moved them onto the house.

Oracle wanted her to come back with him to the Nostrom residence not too far from the crash site. She would be far safer there and have access to food, drink, a washroom, and somewhere to… sleep? Oracle found himself questioning how she was able to sleep without the use of wings because Sicarian beds were all mounted to the ceiling and required that Sicarians hang from them. But he could think of something. That was his job.

Val shook her head and backed away, hoping it would make her intentions obvious. She could not quite trust it yet, and there was no way of knowing if it would be able to keep her alive. Currently the pod was her anchor to the world she left, the one she planned to return to as soon as possible. It was her only way out, because when whoever picked up the signal came looking for her, they would go directly to the pod.

A dropship, slightly larger than the one in which the amber-eyed creature had showed up landed very close to the pod. Val felt anxiety, fearing they might try to move the pod or take her by force. Instead, the thing reached in and picked up the corpse, as per their "agreement," its nose scrunching in obvious disgust from the strong smell, and handed it to one of the two creatures that had exited the dropship.

Val's eyes watered again, "Goodbye mom," she said softly.

"What is that? Sir." one of the medical Agents asked with apprehension.

"A Fallen Light," Oracle replied, "this one is dead, but there is another, alive, in the pod just behind me. The female in the pod has been assured that we are going to bury this body here, and has consented to allow us to take it away temporarily. You are to perform a full analytical autopsy. The body is to be preserved for burial. You will do your best to respect her as you would an Archlight."

"Yes Sir!" the Agent replied unwavering, his eyes flashed. His Agents put orders and rank before _almost _everything else, even a disturbingly alien corpse. If he told them to respect her, they would alter their thought processes to make it so. The Agent carried the limp thing to a cryotube, which was loaded into the dropship's cargo bay and flown off to the medical labs in Vir'atras.

Shit. Val had forgotten to take her mother's omni-tool. She sighed, there was no way to get it back now. Val was now alone in the pod, no memories really. Her head was spinning as the gravity of all that was occurring slowly began to set in.

She wondered how Ada was doing.

* * *

Ada Shepard was fighting back tears as she entered the building. Nothing she tried thinking of could convince to have a hopeful outlook towards her future when _this _was what was in store. Her family was dead, the only person in the galaxy who she could see spending the rest of her life with was totally uninterested in her, her only real friend was slipping away, becoming this social creature. Soon enough she would be at Anderson and Garrus would be away at Black Ops, probably facing death every day. Probably plowing a different Turian female every night to "blow off steam," as he put it, from those stressful missions.

She felt sick at the thought of him with another woman. She felt even worse when she began to dwell on it; Turians were so casual about it and Garrus was so sought after that he most likely had a different one in his pants every night when away at Black Ops.

Now, she was about to watch a reminder of who she would never be, and what she was missing out on.

Her depression was interrupted by the sound of his armor coming off. She had never really seen Garrus as bare as right now, and the vision that was his form was pounding the crap out of her melancholia. He was only wearing slim, form-fitting sparring pants but no shirt. The Turian females were gawking. She heard "and I thought I was in shape" come from somewhere over there.

Shepard had aced xenobiology; she knew enough about Turians to know that Garrus was a fucking anomaly. The silvery metallic sheen of his facial plates extended all over his skin so that he glowed under the light. The Vakarian pattern, which she thought only consisted of the facial markings, expanded to cover his torso plating in hybrid angular and curved shapes, accenting his figure. The Turian female had only markings extending to her shoulders.

His limbs were slender and the Turian corded muscles significantly distorted the softer skin where it showed. Average muscles rested side-by-side with a little play between. His were pressed against one another like they were crying to get out. Perhaps Shepard's mind was just blowing it out of proportion because she desperately longed for him. She saw him as breathtakingly handsome even by human standards.

Garrus looked up and noticed Shepard had come in to watch their event. His mandibles drooped and he mentally slapped himself across the face. He was supposed to be here with her, making sure she was recovering. By the looks of it he had made it worse. He damned his ego, which he thought had been in check. He damned himself, for fucking up everything. A pit formed in his stomach. Just seeing Shepard this dejected made him sick. He had planned on dragging out the match for a while just to provide his audience with a show before taking down Kandros, but he really needed to end it quickly for Shepard's sake.

"Alright Kandros, here I am. Come get me," he said, spreading his arms and offering her any number of easy attacks.

Kandros launched a commendably fast attack which found purchase and knocked him to the ground, intentionally of course. He wanted to see the look on her face when she found out that she was not going to win. She had her knee over his waist, and her hands securing his arm and cowl. She leaned in and purred in his ear.

"Do you concede?"

"If you could pin me," Garrus replied, mirth on his subharmonics. Kandros trilled in confusion.

"But I am pinning you."

"Are you?"

"Um… Yes?"

"You might want to check that," he said then levered himself off the ground with his unpinned arm, an amazing feat of strength, lifting her entire body up with him. A murmur broke out across the watchers. Kandros scrambled to out of the way. He could hear her trying to suppress shock on her subharmonics. Garrus moved in quickly wanting to end the match quickly so they could leave quickly. Kandros must have been highly ranked in hand to hand, because she actually managed to block and return few strikes before he got to her, flipped her completely around, arrested her rotation, then slammed her into the mat face-first.

"Do you concede?" he growled with no hint of flirtatious lust he had worn so well earlier.

Kandros struggled but could not get out of his vice-grip pin.

"I concede."

Without another word, Garrus got up, donned his torso under armor then armor, and headed for Shepard, shunting one or two of the males who attempted to congratulate him afterwards. They looked wholly confused. Garrus' own reputation be damned, he did not care how they thought of him.

Solana cheered when he approached. He did not smile, he did not react. He just wanted out as fast as possible. This whole thing had gone completely downhill and now he was feeling like a self-centered shit that had no sense of compassion for those who were really important. He slid his arm around Shepard's and pulled her with him.

He dragged them both, in silence, into the skycar and took them home to the Vakarian residence. He shot his sister a glance that said _get out_ which she obeyed. Sol was smart, and knew when to tease and when to respect his privacy. Garrus turned to Shepard and wrapped his arms around her wonderfully shaped frame, the same one that he dreamed of.

Shepard gasped and froze for a second before leaning back and almost returning the embrace. He released her but kept his hands on her shoulders.

"I…I…" he sighed a heavy breath, "that was incredibly stupid of me," he was having trouble finding the right words; he might let it slip that he loved her which would end their friendship, "I don't know what I was thinking back there and I completely lost sight of why we were there in the first place. _Spirits_. I apologize. I'm so sorry Ada."

Shepard just stared. In almost no time he had gone from famous lady killer hotshot god-among-men back to her friend. Her heart sank. She gained the assumption now that every time they would be out in public together he would transform into this ego monster. Shepard feared that at some point, he would forget their friendship altogether and become the ego monster. She thought she could trust him but he had thrown it in her face.

Because now anything as simple and innocent as "going out for some target practice" would become "let's all sit around and watch women fall to their knees before him as he drowns in his own fame." Shepard shook her head, another fresh wave of tears on the way, before running to her now permanent room in their house and locked everything out.

Garrus sat down and rubbed his forehead. Ever since he had completely his Black Ops preliminaries and been awarded that sniper… well he may as well have been shooting himself in the foot with it.

He could smooth talk and flirt around women he gave zero fucks about, he could probably get into their under armor with just a look, but when it came to the only woman that actually mattered, he could not think straight. . It would be so much easier if he could just tell her he loved her and that would be that; but with everything he was doing wrong, he was convinced after today any possibility she might want him the way he longed for her was gone.

When he tried to think of spending his life with someone else, or Shepard finding someone other than him… He keened quietly.

Garrus Vakarian: the most highly ranked Black Ops initiate in the last century, perfect, handsome, all around good guy, destroyer of women. Reduced to broken sentences and bare emotions in the presence of someone he could only ever be with in his dreams.

* * *

Oracle watched the female closely. She shook her head, another gesture he did not understand. However, her refusal to go with him was enough to let him know that the sideways motion of the head meant no. He suppressed the urge to growl and frustration. If she stayed here she would be in danger from predators and would likely freeze from the temperature drop, just based on how much covering she had. She looked so fragile and soft.

He checked her temperature using his holotool. It was obvious she was warm-blooded in addition to being a mammal. He checked her heart rate and breathing rate, making records of both for later reference. He suppressed the overwhelming to touch her again; her skin was silk and lingered in his memory.

He shook his head to clear it a little.

_But fear yet, for she will never love you,_  
_The way you love her._  
_O, but she will love you still_  
_With her entire being; Fallen Light._

No. He had already agreed with himself that the prophecy did not pertain to this situation. But then he did not know what else could possibly be a Fallen Light.

It was getting dark, and if she refused to go with him, then he would refuse to leave the pod. He eyed the door chunk lying on the ground and then the gaping hole in the side of the pod. It was getting dark.

"Sir!"

"Centurias."

"Do you require assistance with the Fallen Light?" the Centurias trilled worry. Now even his own people were referring to her as a Fallen Light. His superconscious must have dumped the thought for the Centurias to pick up.

"I can handle this one," Oracle replied reassuring.

"Sir!" The Centurias punctuated before turning to his Agents and ordering them onto to the drop ship cloaked in the forest not too far away.

Val watched another drop ship rise from the trees not too far away, turn, and zoom off. Amber-eyes did not go with them, but remained just at the yawning maw of the pod watching her still. It looked distressed; she could remember a similar expression from earlier. Val wished her omni-tool was as advanced so she could give her own effort at communication.

It really was getting dark out. The creature looked at the pod door lying on the ground for a moment before extending the smaller of its wing armatures, those located closer to the shoulder joint, and slamming them through the inner shell of the thing, which was a weaker plastic. Its larger armatures circled around the inside of the pod almost all the way back to him it then pulled the door onto the pod and held it there. Hundreds very faint clicks like sound of pins hitting a metal floor filled the air and the creature seemed to sink a little into its pose. Val raised an eyebrow. It would not be able to hold that position forever.

Oracle relaxed his muscles and let his bone locks fully support him. He wanted Fallen Light to rest, knowing that being the only one of her kind on a completely alien planet with a dead loved-one was nearly impossible. He knew not fully how her species reacted to a passing, but from what he could see, it was extremely difficult. Sicarians did not handle it too well either. He clamped his subvocals down, not wanting to spill his own emotions to her. He wanted to comfort her, but he held himself back; there were too many unknowns there to risk making any kind of noise she mind find threatening or disgusting.

Val regarded it carefully. She was tired as hell and needed to sleep, but its eyes were literally glowing so brightly that she could not relax herself. Not to mention the smell was still bothering her. She covered her face with her hand to shield against the light but soon enough it slumped, her muscles too tired to keep it there. Suddenly the room went completely dark. Val shifted uneasily and fumbled around for the blanked, whose edge was now lost to her. The notion that it was in a dark room with her was extremely disturbing however.

She started to shiver from a combination of fright, cold temperature, and renewed sadness from her inability to wish her family goodnight. And indeed, her inability to wish them goodnight ever again. She was drained both physically and emotionally, and did not have the strength to keep her composure.

She forced herself to put at least some form of trust in the creature. She was still alive and owed her life to it. But it did not change the fact that it was terrifying and a little repulsive. The small space suddenly filled with soothing amber light. It was just enough so she could see that it had grabbed another undamaged blanket from the open cabinet in the corner of the pod and was now placing the extra layer over her body.

She did not need her sight to feel the instant warmth that the thermal blanket provided as it pulled the covering up to her shoulders and wrapped the edges around her shivering form.

She seemed to calm down after that. Oracle kept his eyes slightly lit for her comfort. He really wished she had come with him; to somewhere it did not smell like death and agony. His mandibles twitched in exasperation. He decided to scent the place regardless of what she thought. She had already tolerated the stench of a dead body; if his neutral scent smelled bad there was no way it could be worse. Oracle switched the direction of his breathing so that air escaped through his mouth.

Val noticed that the bad smell had started to dissipate faster than it had been through the pod's ventilation system alone. Shortly after the smell of dead body left another, quite pleasing aroma filled the room: a light lavender mixed with citrus. She was wholly intoxicated and now that the stench was gone she could focus on sleep. She trusted her captor enough to not kill her but if he did, then she had nothing to lose.

Fallen Light moaned. Oracle froze and held his breath, thinking he had done something wrong, but the expression on her face, mouth pulled up slightly at the corners, relaxed features, told him otherwise. He proceeded and soon enough her breathing and heart rate slowed significantly and her form relaxed. Oracle dimmed his lenses all the way to black and watched her dutifully through his infrareds.

Oracle's superconscious was buzzing, feeling her thoughts and gathering information without telling him. He found himself unable to care that this alien, this soft, small, fragile alien female captivated him so. If his superconscious was screaming at him that he was supposed to be hopelessly in love with her then he would obey. After all, Sicarians took orders well; and should any disagreement arise, they could simply alter their thought process to find it acceptable.

Oracle, despite being the one to give those orders, was certainly no exception in the rare chance that he received them.


	4. Nightmares

I'm really glad that you find this interesting enough go as far as post reviews. They are my motivation; my fuel.

This chapter contains some possibly disturbing imagery.

* * *

Turians rarely dreamed. But when they did, they absolutely never emerged unscathed. Their minds were not designed to dream, so more often than not, they were easily tricked into finding the dream world indistinguishable from the real one because the mind left little to no clues that one was false.

Garrus woke up and felt guilty for not talking to Shepard sooner; he tried to come up with some kind of structured apology that would explain his actions and hopefully convey how seeing her react like that was eating him from the inside. He was also prepared to take any kind of verbal or physical abuse she may want to dish out. Hell, if she wanted to beat the crap out of him he would let her; it would help her ease some of the pent up emotions she was harboring.

He wanted to go back to being her friend so at least he could hear her talk, make her smile, laugh, and spend time around her before he had to return to Black Ops in which the risk of death was extremely high, and no one so much as looked in his direction because his records and awards might beat them to death.

He hoped Shepard was still awake. There was no light under her door but he decided to check anyway just to make sure that she was sleeping peacefully. Garrus softly opened the door and stepped past the threshold into the dark room. Something smelled _off_. Usually her room smelled like she did, mixed with the shampoo and body wash she used in the shower. But now he knew he could smell blood. Black Ops had trained him to recognize blood from all of the current known races as well has hundreds of animals. And this scent was one he knew well: human blood.

Garrus noticed that Shepard was not on her bed so he flicked on the light. She was in the corner, slumped over in her minimal nightwear, pistol lying upon a limp hand, whose index finger was still stuck between the trigger and the trigger guard. Garrus head spun; her perfect skin was marred with her blood and large and angry exit wound to one side of her head was still running red and grey.

There was no question that she was dead. A wound like that could never recover. Garrus felt his heart ripped out through his throat, along with his spine, and the bones in his legs and feet. He coughed up blood even though he was physically unscathed. He sank to his knees and held her to his chest, the once strong and majestic form now devoid of any kind of life. Streaks of dried tears stained her face. Her life was running all over his hands as he held her, foreheads pressed together. But it was certainly too late; and he knew that the rest of his life would be spent trying to find happiness but failing. There could never be another Shepard; no one could live up the bar she set.

Garrus keened and then proved the myth that Turians did not cry wrong when a single extremely painful tear of cobalt blood emerged from the corner of one and then the other.

Garrus had always thought of suicide as reserved for the weak; those who did not possess the proper strength to endure a difficult life. But this was Shepard: the opposite of those descriptors. This recent change in his life had provided him with perspective. Now that he could relate, he only saw liberation, if anything. He had already died along with, and now inhabited a shell which trapped him among the living. Because in a life that only took things away, Garrus failed to find any room for hope and happiness.

He picked up the gun she had used, held her tightly against his chest and before he could fire he heard a whisper that was distinctly hers.

"This is your all fault Garrus," before he could hesitate to figure out everything that did not add up about the situation his finger twitched in surprise and his mind went dark.

* * *

About half way through the night Oracle received some preliminary information on what discoveries the autopsy was unearthing. Fallen Light's loved-one had a similar device to his holotool which contained a considerable amount of information. His tech Agent had broken into the lightly encrypted device and screened the whole thing for malware. Finding none, he had sent Oracle an exact replica of the holotool: the operating system, the correct emulated software and hardware constraints, as well as every bit of data it contained.

Oracle marveled at how primitive the device was compared to theirs, but it seemed to accomplish all they needed it too while providing a shockingly intuitive interface, and he saw how it could be useful even if it was a thousand years behind. He stared at the foreign symbols and patterns on the emulated screen and immediately identified repeats and groupings. Their language was similar to theirs, which had a total of fifty symbols for pronunciation, including those for subvocals and supervocals. On this alien alphabet he counted over two hundred.

His savant's mind and superconscious quickly eliminated a good majority of those as non-letter symbols and punctuation. And soon enough he figured out which were numerals by looking through some files containing primarily those symbols. He smiled, lucky that they had the same number of fingers on their hands, when he cracked their basic mathematical system. All this had taken him about an hour.

Oracle chanced a look at Fallen Light who had rolled over and now had her back to him. He winced and tried to keep himself from finding that arousing, telling himself again that she did not know what the gesture meant to Sicarians. He felt a pit form in his stomach, fully expecting that he would have to endure more of her entirely sexual movements without being able to tell her that she was essentially inviting him. And they were not even mated. A lot of Sicarians would handle her behavior extremely poorly if they witnessed it.

Oracle came to video files next, clipping on a small audio transmitter so he could listen without waking up Fallen Light. The first video he looked at was recent. He only knew that because Fallen Light looked almost exactly the same in it as she did now. The only difference he could see was that her fringes were shorter.

She was at a huge social gathering. Now that there was clear comparison, Oracle noticed the obvious differences between the males and females. He could not help the trill of surprise when he saw more than just her species though. There were the similar looking blue females, skinny large-eyed lizard like creatures, and one or two green-skinned black-eyed reptilian beings. There was an entire galaxy of life, intelligent life, moving around them and they had been missing out for what he supposed was thousands of years. He paused the video and made new files on his holotool documenting everything he noticed about them with a combination of video, audio, images, and text; the way they looked, how they differed from one member to another, how they acted.

Oracle was particularly interested in the taller ones that looked quite similar to the Sicarians. They had only one pair of mandibles. The males had long fringes on their heads similarly to theirs, while most females did not have any. There were a few exceptions. The majority of those was generally taller and held themselves straighter than the others and.

The video was clearly focused on Fallen Light however, and he pulled his focus towards linking the audio with the video and connecting meaning with the foreign language.

"Val Shepard." _Her name _his superconscious told him. _Her name_. Apparently it was able to confirm that by reading neural patterns in Fallen Light's head and finding matches. He heard subharmonics from the being at the podium who had called her. He paused and replayed it over a few times, memorizing the sound. Her first name, Val, had an identical primary vocalization to the Sicarian word for honor, respect, loyalty, camaraderie. He could not think of a better name and almost trilled a laugh at how their languages miraculously lined up.

Fallen Light bared her flat and perfectly white teeth in what he understood was a smile and rose from her seat among the crowd. The aliens around her smiled in their own unique ways as well. She made her way to the platform off to one side on which one of the taller long-fringed aliens was standing. The creature addressed Fallen Light, no, "Val," and began speaking in yet another foreign tongue with only a single layer of subvocals as opposed to three and one layer of supervocals. The tall male creature stood with a regal pose for a great majority of the speech but abruptly changed in the middle, only slightly, to a more friendly and colloquial one. His tone and subvocals transitioned. Val's skin turned red then she smiled. There was a roar from the crowd. Once the noise died down the tall fringed alien grew solemn again and handed a golden pin to Val who stood proudly and confidently. The crowd roared again. The video ended there.

Oracle continued to watch these videos until he understood the meaning of a few simple words of her language, and little more about her background. He continued to document everything. She came from the Shepard clan; daughter of Hannah and Alan. The body they were operating on had been her mother.

Oracle shuddered; for being almost emotionless in their operational lives, Sicarians made up for it in their personal lives. They properly allotted time for their Agents to spend time with their families, one of the most important and sacred units in their society. A strong and unified family meant stronger, healthier offspring were raised to maintain the unity and coherence of their society, and better the species as a whole.

He cracked the way their date and time system and calculated that he was sixteen to them, a year older than Val. He keened a little; that was a very young age to be forced into this situation. Oracle acquired newfound admiration of her composure.

Oracle's savant's mind made connections in her language extremely slowly at first, but ramped up exponentially once he made even slight steps into understanding it. He tested himself by reading through some of the text-based files on Val's mother's "omni-tool" as they called it. It was ironic, but of course they had nothing to compare it against.

Ninety five percent of the words in the text-only documents were yet lost on him, gone over his head, but that did not stop him from practicing pronunciation of their alphabet, recognizing the patterns, and learning their structures and the various types of words. Oracle would be able to converse with her only, even if only barely. He predicted that it would take him around two years to memorize the words. A few more to learn its idioms. And a few more still to speak it fluently and without an accent. Oracle knew it would be difficult for Val, however, because she did not possess any subvocals. He did not think she could actually speak their language successfully without them.

The first few reports of thousands came in from the autopsy. Oracle was interrupted by a sudden and splitting headache. Val's features were contorted. Her nightmare was so intense that it was affecting him. But there was nothing he could do. Every way he could think of to comfort her required that they be mated. So he hung there and tried to get his superconscious under enough control to perhaps influence her thoughts towards more soothing things.

Val had a brain disorder that sometimes resulted in horrific and realistic nightmares. It was also the reason she was smarter than everyone in her class. The neuroplasticity in her brain had always maintained, and her memory was eidetic.

It had been worse when she was younger; both characteristics in tandem had often resulted in fully real memories of non-existent events, places, and people. Therapy for the nightmares had taught her several techniques to check herself for fallacies like those, but it always took a certain amount of time before she could realize anything was actually wrong.

She knew that crash landing on the planet had been a bad dream because she woke up again in her room on the _Starcutter_, a combination of relief and disappointment washing over her. It would certainly have been amazing and tragic if the ordeal had been true; a new entire undiscovered species but a dead family. She left her bed and went into the next room disbelieving how vivid and draining the dream she had just woken up from was.

Val screamed. Her father's face was carved out and her mother lay there dead, naked and mangled, in a pool of God and Spirits knew what. Three Batarians stood there with sneers on their faces and leapt at her. She tried to make it back into her room but they were faster. One held her down with slimy disgusting hands and another ripped her underwear off. Her heart was pounding. _Not like this_.

A scent like lavender and citrus filled the room and Val was roughly dropped to the sound of a wet puncture and screams. She turned around just in time to see Amber-eyes with two Batarians hanging off his longest wing armatures, drowning in their own blood. The third tried to dodge but Amber-eyes moved faster than both could blink and slammed his razor-talon thumbs into the Batarian's lower two eyes. He screamed in the most intense pain. That impossibly long tongue shot out and struck the other two like a rattlesnake. The long wing on his forearm extended over his wrist, twisted around as a second section of the member unfolded and shot through the Batarian's spine, effectively holding him suspended. With one arm. Its wrist and wing flexed in opposite directions. The Batarian's head bent back at a disgusting angle and the skin on the front of his neck tore.

The other two were dead by now and slid off the large armatures and dropped to the floor. Amber-eyes approached her, eyes dimming in their intensity and expression softening. The wing membranes snapped out and covered her dignity. The room shrunk and darkened quickly while its wings expanded around the walls and latched onto the door.

Val woke up with a start, eyes wide, panting breaths, and a massively elevated heart rate. Oracle ignited his lenses to provide her some light, a comfort to her but unnecessary to him. He seriously considered speaking right then, but even he could not get past the anxiety that he might say something offensive or rude. Or she just plain would not understand him. Val was staring at him intently, much differently than before. It looked a lot like shock to him.

Her staring looked like it had turned into searching inside him for something. Oracle found himself wondering if the effects of his superconscious projection were being picked up, and that she was finding out more than he wanted her to know.

His holotool flared infrared as he received more information about her species from his scientists' thorough investigation.

Oracle wanted to tell Val that it was going to be alright, but he did not want to risk butchering her language without making absolutely sure he got it right. Val finally sighed a tired breath, opening her mouth and emitting a soft moan, before closing her eyes and relaxing back into sleep. Oracle gritted his teeth. Eventually he would be able to tell her with his own words what was and was not viewed as a socially acceptable gesture.

* * *

Shepard was sitting in her bed, going through pictures of her family on her omni-tool. It was not the probably best thing she could be doing for herself right now but she found some comfort in the pictures. She wavered a sigh and then set the device on the bedside table and turned off the lights.

Her eyes had just closed when she heard a loud crash from a few rooms down the hall, either Solana's or Garrus', followed by some muffled vocalizations that she interpreted as curses. It was definitely Garrus' voice. She could hear Solana shuffle over through the hallway, but that did not stop her from wanting to know what the problem was. It certainly sounded painful, and even if she was not quite ready to forgive him for his actions that day, she cared enough to at least make sure he was alright.

Shepard strapped on her omni-tool, slipped into a thin robe, and moved down the hall to his room. She heard Garrus and Solana conversing as she walked in, just managing to catch a few sentences before Solana noticed her and stopped talking, shocked expression on her face.

"Spirits what happened Gar?"

"Bad dream. I don't want to talk about it."

A pause, Solana's voice had sounded extremely unnerved.

"_Spirits_ Garrus are those…" and then Shepard entered the room, effectively causing Solana to snap her mouth shut and clamp her mandibles against her jaw.

"Is everything alright?" Shepard asked before really seeing anything. But when she did, the first thing her dirty teenage mind noticed was that Garrus was not wearing _anything,_ and the cobalt markings extended _everywhere_. After that she picked up that he was sitting on the floor, back against the bed, with his head bowed and his _terrified_ sister kneeling at his side. Finally the way he looked at her, eyes widening in a combination of emotions unable to be discerned; all of which screamed negativity.

She squinted when she noticed something odd about his markings. There were extra lines in there, two of them, trialing from his eyes down his cheek plates like thick cobalt liquid. Solana got up quickly.

"Now is not the best time Shep," she bit out crossly, completely uncharacteristic of her. Despite being four years younger than Shepard, Solana was nearly as tall, and quite physically strong. Shepard felt angry talons on her shoulder, turning her not-so-gracefully towards the door and then shoving her out of his room.

"What-" she got out before she was cut off by Solana.

"Not. Now," she growled and shut and locked the door. Shepard stood confused for a while, highly disturbed by this whole thing. Hushed conversation continued but she could not make out any words. She returned to her room and fell asleep, uncomfortably wishing Garrus was there like he had been the previous night.

She caught herself breathless, now that she had an almost complete image of her secret interest, about how it would feel to trace her fingers along _all _of those markings, not just the ones on his face. Shepard told herself she had to stay angry, even if it was superficial. She reminded herself of all she had lost and all she could never have and landed back at square one.

Solana turned back to him after locking the door.

"Yes they are, Sol."

"Spirits Garrus what the hell happened?"

"I said I don't want to talk about it."

"Bullshit."

"I _don't want to relive it_," he growled in frustration.

"Damn it Garrus, I may not have a degree in psychology, but I can sure as hell to a better job than any you might find. I won't judge you if you tell me."

"Yah, well, that's supposed to be her job," he said quietly.

"Whose? What does that even mean?" Solana was really upset, she had never seen her brother, a paradigm of turian values, so broken over something. Not even when one of his squad members had been KIA during a mission had he… _cried_.

"I _fucked up_ Solana. It's _that simple_."

Turians were quite capable of shedding tears; granted they were tears of blood, it was just extremely painful, and extremely rare. Usually they were brought about when a loved one died was unaware that Garrus had anyone like that in his life, but she decided not to push it if this was the way he was reacting to a dream about her, or his (rare but possible), death. She certainly would not want anyone to pry into her personal life unless she permitted it, even her brother.

Solana, for one moment, considered the possibility that it could be Shepard. They had always been good friends and recently with the death of her family Shepard had turned to Garrus as a confidant. She could easily see that as something more. However, she knew her brother, and he certainly did not seem like the human type. But Garrus' escapades at the shooting range earlier that day made it obvious that he was not particularly interested in being involved with her. Although, the way Shepard reacted was less than optimal. It could be a one-sided deal. Garrus would probably come around, but if he did not, better Shepard than Garrus.

She was human, she was scientifically proven to be able to find someone besides Garrus and be happy. Solana would not have any problems if they entered into a romantic relationship, but it was certainly better that Garrus was not the one side. If it were reversed; Solana shuddered. One-sided Turian relationships were extremely disastrous and corrosive to the neglected. There was no recovery, even when they found someone else.

Solana dropped the matter and decided not to tell their parents. If Garrus wanted them to know then he would tell them. Solana could find something else to tease her brother about that was not quite as serious.

Her brother sighed and climbed back into the bed.

"Good night Sol, sorry I woke you."

* * *

Val had not quite dropped off to sleep again. She could tell the previous horrific experience had been the dream: too many things did not add up about it. But she regarded her captor now as a protector more than anything. Although, it had only protected her and not her family. Val was not happy with either of the two realities, but the alternative to this was even worse. At least in the real one, her parents had died with dignity still intact, fighting until they breathed their last, the most honorable path to the blissful afterlife Val could think of. She shuddered at the images from her dream.

It was still locked in the position it had been when she drifted off the first time; she could not spot any sings that it had shifted at all at any point during the night. She marveled at how strong it must have to be to hold completely still like that for so long.

Val appreciated its presence though because something about the aura it gave off made her feel safer and reminded her of her family. It had seemingly read her thoughts and had given her light when she had woken up from her nightmare, a comfort to her, but likely unnecessary to it, which meant it had gone out of its way to make her feel safer. She realized that she could not be any luckier given her current circumstances. She had lost her family, crash-landed on a planet inhabited by killer predators in the just the right location so that it could find her before the others. The one of them that was bent on keeping her alive at all costs. The one of them that was bent on giving the only second chance she would ever receive.

She only woke up when she could see morning bleeding through the thermal window on the door that the creature was still holding. Its eyelids were actually closed. If she had learned anything by watching these creatures, it was that closing one's eyelids was a sign of high trust not to take advantage of the vulnerability. Val felt herself swell a little with pride that it trusted her enough for that.

Its eyes snapped open, its eyes completely obsidian. It took one look at her and the cocked its head as if listening for something. Val heard those soft clicks again and it shifted finally.

Oracle felt the presence of a wild _Tarenov_ just outside of the pod, a quite large and powerful predator. But even though they were nearly three times his size, Oracle killed them half for sport and half for food when they came to close to the city or his family's residence. His mouth was slick with saliva at the thought of fresh meat.

He knew the beast had heard Val's heartbeat and had come to investigate the pod, which meant that it was not expecting a Sicarian. He had the drop. Once he was sure it had given up its fruitless investigation he threw the heavy door in the direction he could sense it, hearing a satisfying crack as the hard metal of the outer shell slammed into its head.

It was stunned, not for long, but certainly long enough for Oracle to leap out of the pod and use his wings to propel himself through the air and onto the large creature's back. His veins pumped with saturated adrenaline, so much that his muscle structure actually altered to allow for synthetic levels of strength, and he drove the sharpened ends of his scapulals* into the weak spot just behind its head, severing its spine, and further still so that both hearts were stuck and torn.

His jaw split and he guaranteed it death, snapping his tongue out to inject a deadly and potent neurotoxin into its brain through its eye.

He was done before the thing even made a noise of protest. Oracle would have liked to have quartered the damn thing and carried it back to the Nostrom residence to prepare it and store it away for later, but he had more important obligations.

He wrenched his wings from the corpse and ordered two of his Maintenance Agents to take it before the smell could attract another beast. Soon enough they arrived by small transport, greeted him by trilling friendly good morning on their subvocals to which he buzzed gratitude. They hauled the enormous corpse off towards the residence in the transport.

Val was shivering. It was her protector, yes, but it acted almost identically to the way it had in her dream: lethal, brutal, efficient. She began to have doubts about her trust in the creature. This was the second time she had witnessed something like this happen and it was still just as horrifying.

Then two others showed up in a medium sized transport vehicle, wearing far lighter armor than the ones from the previous day and for the first time Val was able to draw a distinction between a male and a female; mainly because the females had breasts and her armor contoured to accommodate them. Her build was certainly feminine, narrow torso and wide waist. The wings on her forearms were far smaller than those on Amber-eyes and the other who had arrived, but the wings on her back almost touched the ground.

Val could see her face perfectly because she wasn't wearing a helmet; the features were much smoother than the others', both sets of mandibles extended back in graceful arcs, she actually had an upper lip, and her crest armatures were shorter. But when the female turned her head, Val could see three additional fringes at the base of the skull that hung down and mimicked the basic shape of hair, giving an even more feminine look to her.

That made the others clearly male, or so she assumed. Their features mimicked the commonalities found across the males of many different species.

Amber-eyes turned around and Val found herself satisfied that she could finally give him a proper title in her thoughts besides _it_. The other two dragged huge dead beast into their vehicle and disappeared over the trees.

He stepped up into the pod mandibles twitching. Oracle mentally prepared himself to speak to her in her tongue without allowing his doubts get in the way. He had listened to her name hundreds of times by now, practiced it himself to make sure it was his pure voice she was hearing and not simply an imitation of the audio.

"Vall Sheparrd?"

Val snapped her head in his direction. Yep, definitely a male sounding voice. And unlike yesterday, there was _no way_ that could be _anything_ but her own name. And despite her first name sounding closer to "Voll" than "Val," and the rolled 'r' in her last name, it was almost perfect. But his _voice_. She thought turians and drell had sexy voices but oh if they only knew what they were missing. She gasped and he winced. How he knew her name, let alone how to pronounce it was lost on her.

Oracle knew he had screwed something up when her moth dropped and she put on a shocked expression. He clamped his mandibles to his face in resignation. Well it certainly garnered a response from her, he must have done at least part of it right. She was probably more shocked that he even knew what her name was. Oracle watched her open and close her mouth a few times before shutting it and remaining silent. He gathered himself and persevered.

Val reminded herself to stay put and continue to wait for pickup from the Alliance or whoever got the signal first.

"With me, come, please. Safer with me" Her omni-tool was not running his words through any kind of translator, which meant he was speaking English. How? How? How? She kept asking herself over and over. The words shimmered in the air with the way his subharmonics distorted them slightly. He barely had an accent but if it had to be identified Val would deem it a mixture of French and Russian. Val tried to check herself; finding that this was more likely a dream than anything, but failing to notice any incongruities.

Val could only shake her head in disbelief and refusal. She could _not_ leave the pod because it was her only lifeline. She glanced at the comms unit still glowing in the corner which she had not thought to check since landing with all that was going on. Her blood ran cold when she glanced at the red text. It had been sending out signals, just none that would actually communicate anything. She felt so stupid for not having checked earlier when it may have made a difference.

Suddenly she realized that she was indeed trapped on the planet, and she was alone. The full weight of the situation ground down upon her and she could not hold back her tears. It would be the last time she cried for years following.

Despite the confusion at her sudden outburst of forlorn tears, Oracle had seen enough of the video files to know what was and was not considered appropriate contact for them. He leaned in close and rested a hand on her shoulder, projecting calm through his superconscious, hoping that she could pick it up if not through her mind than her skin.

Val jumped at the contact which felt surprisingly comforting and looked into his amber lenses, which dimmed slightly under scrutiny.

"Please, Vall," his voice melted like butter and trickled down her spine. Val had nowhere else to go, and if it turned out that she was not dreaming, the situation could not be any better than it was right now. She put her and over the on his shoulder and rose, legs creaking from disuse.

Success! Oracle flared his mandibles in a smile and his eyes brightened involuntarily. He slid his hand down her arm and pulled her up. She stood, wobbled, and nearly fell over, but Oracle shot out his radials** and fanned the wing to catch her. Once she was righted again she began walking.

The membranes on his wings were very comfortable, stretching just so to fit her form like a mesh chair. Val did not let that distract her as she took her first labored steps in nearly two days. Their planet was larger in mass than Concordia and therefore had higher sea level gravitational pull. Walking around would be exhausting for a while, but her muscles and bones would adapt.

With her clothes soiled with sweat, her muscles aching and weak, hunger and thirst afflicting her, mind ragged and torn, Val Shepard stepped from the safe-haven remnant of a world she left behind, and onto the soil of a world to which she was completely blind.

And even though she was terrified by her only guide, she trusted him yet to keep her alive.

* * *

Some biological terminology (made up for clarity):

*scapulal primaries (scapulals): the main armatures that extend from the scapula.  
scapulal secondaries (secondaries): the secondary armatures that extend from the base of the primaries.  
pectoral anteriors (anteriors): armatures that are based around the pectorals  
pelvic anteriors (pelvics): armatures that are based on the pelvis  
fibulal anteriors (fibulals): armatures that are based on the fibulas  
**radial primaries (radials): forearm armatures


	5. Starting Over

/\/\/\ - my visitors per day (lol).

* * *

Shepard walked into the kitchen, mouth watering at the smell of whatever was cooking for breakfast. Garrus' door was not open so she knew that he was still sleeping. She hesitated as she walked past and shivered when she remembered the look on his face from the previous night. She was supposed to be there as a confidant, but that did not involve walking into his room when he was sleeping to make sure he was "okay." No matter how much she wanted to. She figured the temptation to get under the covers with him was too viable a threat to take lightly.

Shepard was still sore from the ordeal at the range. It would take her a while to realize that it was her own fault, but as of right now she did not possess the proper mental facilities to do anything other than struggle against the tide of melancholia that was her life. Too many things were on their way out.

Shepard walked into the kitchen and sat down at the place set for the only human in the household. Garrus' mother had prepared a commonplace levo bacon and omelet. Shepard took a bite not really expecting it amaze her but of course it tasted wonderful and reminded her of home and fucked everything was right now.

"Good morning Ada, how are you feeling?"

Shepard sighed. In all honesty

"I feel like crap."

"Language,"

"Sorry mom," it was too late to catch herself and she cursed under her breath, "Damn it. Sorry" more tears. She was not out of the woods yet.

"No need to apologize, Ada, I'm actually quite flattered. And it certainly is not the first time you called me that."

Shepard smiled with warm memories but did not remember any time she had called Garrus' mother "mom." Aevia sensed her confusion.

"When you were just a little baby your mother and I actually spent about the same amount of time with you and my son. Political obligations were… a nuisance to say the least. Garrus would probably hate me for telling you this, but he definitely got your mother and I mixed up when he was little."

Shepard smiled and chuckled quietly, the thought providing her with a greater sense of family among the Vakarians. She knew they had been close, just not the magnitude. That also explained how Aevia knew how to prepare levo so well. Shepard could still feel the sting, however, and she did not want to feel like she was replacing her own family with theirs. At least, not so quickly.

Garrus walked in a few quiet moments later. Aevia set something deceptively appetizing down in front of him.

"Good morning Garrus, how are you feeling?"

"Fine."

"Sure you aren't," Aevia said sternly, her maternal connection telling her that something was off.

Garrus sighed and glanced at Shepard, not really wanting to talk about the fact that the reason for his mood was a bad dream, something that he was fairly sure she would not understand. Shepard arched her eyebrows, clearly intrigued. He groaned. He had hoped she had forgotten the whole thing. But he had yet to learn that nothing having involving Shepard would ever be simple or easy.

"Um," his subharmonics were doing their best to not give him away, "bad dream," he muttered.

Aevia's mandibles flattened and her eyes darted between her son and Shepard. They both knew to play if off, fortunately, because Shepard had never been told what dreaming meant to turians.

"Oh," she said, vocals feigning only a hint of surprise but subvocals keening. She knew better than to pry; asking only made ever the scars worse. But that almost certainly meant that her son was seriously involved with someone and had not told them, which was probably a good decision because Aevia would likely not approve of just about anyone. No one was good enough for her son. But he was really in deep if he had dreamt about her. Aevia suspected that it was someone back at Black Ops, and that Garrus was suffering from separation anxiety.

She felt a little sorry for Shepard, she could have sworn there was something more than friendship between them, but if Garrus had someone else then that was that. Shepard could live through it, just because Garrus was taken did not mean he had to avoid her.

"Is she… still alive, Garrus," Aevia murmured in traditional so that Shepard could not hear the mostly subharmonically based speech.

Garrus stiffened, thinking that his mother had figured him out, but realized quickly that she could be asking about anyone and probably assumed that he was seriously involved with someone back at Black Ops. He kept his gaze straight; if he glanced at Shepard now then it would be the end of him. All he had to say was

"Yes."

Aevia breathed a sigh of relief.

"You may want to talk to her about it, finalize things. Black Ops will put you in a unit together and schedule your leave at the same time so you don't have to separate."

Garrus sat there and listened to his mother bury herself in a misconception. The deeper the better, but it technically was not a lie. She was alive thank the Spirits, and he would eventually get around telling her. Later. Never.

"Don't worry, I will," he lied.

If there was one thing that the Black Ops training had helped with, it was keeping composure under pressure.

Shepard sat and watched their exchange, shifting a little uncomfortably. They were talking behind her back directly in front of her about something very serious involving Garrus. Her stomach was just about ready to turn over. Garrus nodded once and then his mother backed off. Shepard hated being out of the loop and felt betrayed that her best friend was not confiding in her. It seemed that whatever had happened to him during the night had caused him to want to avoid her at all costs.

Shepard sank a little. She had without a doubt brought it upon herself by being ignorant to the fact that his flirting meant nothing. To the fact that it felt amazing when he had kicked that recon-scout's cute little ass in a sparring match and left it there when she was practically begging him. Aevia left the room and took their plates with her.

"Isn't Sol going to eat?" Garrus shouted into the other room.

"She left" came the reply. Of course she did "Bye you two, I'll be back late, so you'll either have to order something or make dinner yourselves. Don't blow up my house."

"Alright bye mom."

Silence. Then uncomfortable silence.

Garrus finally spoke.

"Listen, Ada, I really am sorry about yesterday. I feel extremely guilty about it," he spoke like it was the last time he would see her, or as if he could not believe that she was even in the room, "I promised myself I wouldn't let my ego get the better of me but I failed, and forgot that I was there with you to help _you_ recover. I don't want you to go through this feeling isolated, like everything is gone from your life," he cut himself off there and did not finish his sentence. He had essentially read her thoughts and was now telling her exactly what she wanted to hear, which had to count for something.

"You trusted me Ada, and I threw it in your face. I'm ready to forget what happened yesterday," _I will never forget what the consequences were._

Shepard sighed. She knew him better than she thought she did sometimes, and she knew that she could trust him. But she was scared of his ego, mainly because it had actually threatened their friendship.

"I'm also sorry that I woke you up last night," he was immediately sorry that he brought it up.

"You had me worried Garrus. I don't think I've ever seen Solana do anything but tease you."

He chuckled, stalling while he attempted to form a completely credible reason other than a nightmare for which he was awake and Solana was justified in shoving her out of the room. He decided to be as honest as he could without spilling anything or allowing her to possibly misconstrue things. Or severely worry her.

"I told you it was a bad dream. I woke up and hit my head on the bedside table."

Shepard's eyes glinted and she feigned concern. Good. He was content with anything but actual concern. "Not your pretty face!"

"I know."

"Solana seemed a little… concerned."

"Turians don't dream often. They can be traumatic. She was just making sure I was okay. You know, not insane or anything."

Shepard accepted the explanation in its entirety. Everything about it made sense. She dropped it altogether and proceeded with their amends.

"About your apology…" he sucked in a breath, waiting for her to say that it was all his fault just like she had in his nightmare. He would go insane if she did.

"I just want to know that you won't repeat it. I felt left out."

"I know. It won't happen again."

They both sighed in relief. Shepard remained on edge, Garrus mentally slapped himself across the face. Now that he had consequences for any sort of misbehavior he felt much less motivated to neglect her presence the way he had.

"Do you have anything on your mind for today?" Garrus asked.

"Actually, that recon-scout you took down yesterday, she wasn't trying. I suggest I show you how hand-to-hand is really done."

"Are you sure Shepard?"

"C'mon Garrus, I have a few tricks up my sleeve; I could probably teach you a few things."

He knew she was far from lying, so he decided to take her up on it. Shepard was a master in multiple human martial arts. It would also help her work off some of her stress.

"Alright then," he said smirking, "but I should warn you, Black Ops does teach you some tricks as well. It should be a learning experience for both of us."

* * *

Amber-eyes watched her intently, ever unblinking, and swished his hands through the air over his forearm. She raised her eyebrows, wondering what the gesture as supposed to mean. In response his brow ridges raised and then lowered. His omni-tool materialized. He gestured at it. It still did not make any sense.

He glanced over at the pod and spoke again.

"Bring items," he gestured at the pod. Val understood what he meant and retrieved as much survival equipment as she could carry. He offered his arms and she deposited the materials.

"More, if possible," he commanded softly, if such a thing was possible. She searched around for anything that she could could imagine and came back with a few more things.

"Good," he said with an unreadable tone to his voice.

A couple seconds later a small vehicle showed up which they entered. Val watched the portal to her world sink under the tree line.

Val really wished she knew his name, but she was afraid to open her mouth and speak, overwhelmed by the prospect of her future.

Oracle sat with her in silence, distracted a little by the constant flood of notifications and information from the autopsy. By now he had an entire high-res 3D scan of the skeleton, muscles, and organs, with notes on each and every one. If there was any doubt that Val and her mother were female, these scans completely eliminated them. They were still running tests on the DNA, which was one of the final pieces of the puzzle.

He checked for updates on the starship or the handgun but they were still works in progress so he would have to wait. Until then, he could focus most of his efforts on Val and learning her world; and more specifically: Val.

She looked nervous so he did his best to tell her that they were going somewhere quiet, personal, and removed from others.

"Now we go to my home," Val wondered if she would ever get used to when he spoke. She was only fifteen, but that had not stopped puberty and… wants. She shuddered at the prospect of bedding with one of these monsters, death was probably involved in some way, but if she closed her eyes… "just us; tranquil. I learn your language better. I learn your… your…" she could hear him growl in frustration, searching for the correct word. She was still unable to speak, stunned beyond coherence that he was speaking with her in English well enough for Val to understand.

She thought about his words and hoped he knew what he was saying. If true, then she could certainly hope that someday she would see her family again. This race had extremely advanced technology but for whatever reason had never been seen before now in the galaxy. She would have to ask him why when she eventually found her voice. _If_ she found her voice after everything that happened.

"…culture," He finally dug out, "and your world. If you let me."

Val only nodded. She still asked herself how it was possible that Amber-eyes had gone from not knowing _any_ English, to the considerable amount that he knew in a night. One night. He must have been quite a great deal more intelligent than she currently gave him credit for. Val realized that it was because her mind automatically disconnected feral brutality and intelligence.

Oracle could see she was struggling; feel it through his superconscious that her mind was chaotic right now. He had discovered that contact, a chaste touch of the shoulder or arm, could usually put her nerves at ease. He reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder, thumbs resting and urging to stroke the soft skin through the shirt. His reservations around her had all but dissolved with the recent anatomical information regarding her species, and he had no problems seeing her as beautiful in a rare and exotic way. But Sicarians were never shallow when choosing mates; body and mind were equally important and entirely subjective. What some found attractive others did not, but choices were accepted.

"I am sorry, Vall. To lose your mother is difficult."

Val stared, eyes already glazing over again. Whether it was sadness, relief, or confusion she could not tell, but he was being so tender with her that it melted her heart. She leaned into the disturbing alien hand on her shoulder for a moment before drawing away, refusing to let him off the hook that easily, and disgusted with herself for feeling comfort from this thing.

Oracle continued to feel the conflict within her. She thought of him as repulsive and vile; the way she was carrying herself made that evident and it stung. He drew away and refrained from any contact for the rest of their trip to the Nostrom residence.

He continued to check his holotool for updates. His scientists had found something among the omni-tool data that Oracle had missed. He mentally berated himself. They had discovered a periodic table of elements and mapped theirs to it quite easily. There were a few differences between the two, and the Sicarian table had five or six extra heavy elements off the end. There was one the other possessed, however, that defied physics altogether.

This element before hydrogen; this "eezo." He knew without even having to think on it much that this was the key to FTL. He sent back a note to his scientists about his hunch and they confirmed that they had the same notions. The skeleton crews on the alien starship had been notified to scan for this element amongst the ruins and do their best to recover as much of it as possible. If they had even a small sample, they could replicate it.

However, having a periodic table served another use entirely; it was just another way to communicate with Val. Oracle had learned basic words regarding nutrition, but some of their elements were yet lost on him. He had a feeling that if he showed a glass of water she would never drink it for fear that it was anything but water. He had a sneaking suspicion that she thought he did not know what he was saying, so having both sources present would only convince her more.

He did not even need to ask if she was thirsty to feel it. She probably had water in her survival kit, but for whatever reason, was not drinking any. Their transport had a dispenser and cups so he filled one and handed it to her.

Amber-eyes held a cup of a clear liquid to her and accompanied it by saying "water," and pointing out H2-O on a human periodic table of elements. Val did not need any more convincing than that and suddenly realized exactly how thirsty she really was, having not eaten or drank anything for nearly two days. She accepted the cup and drank the whole thing in one gulp, trusting that nothing besides water and maybe a few benign minerals were in there.

The ice-cold and slightly sweet tasting water completely distracted her from everything. The sensation of the water trickling down her throat and quenching her thirst could only be described as sexual. Out of the corner of her sight, Amber-eyes shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Val handed the cup back to him which he filled with more water and gave back to her. She continued to drink until she was no longer thirsty.

"Still thirsty?" he asked when she set the cup down. Val simply shook her head, trying her best to pull her own weight in this tentative relationship and communicate back, even if it could not be in his language.

Dear Lord she was hungry.

Oracle felt her hunger now and winced. He had remembered every moment spent with her so far and she had not eaten even a bit of food for sustenance. Val reached over and grabbed one of the containers and removed a packet of something, ripped it open, and ate. They were some kind of flat and beige colored brittle chips.

Val ate the entire bag of nutrient chips and felt full; that was what they were designed to do. Each chip was the equivalent of a full meal's worth of vitamins, minerals, and calories. She would not have to feel hungry for the next day or so. She crumpled the bag and made to put it back where she got it but Amber-eyes stopped her when he held out a hand. The holotool flashed, some icons popped up, he moved them around with expert fingers then it vanished. He leaned back, seeming to be content with something.

Oracle disbelieved that the tiny bag of food she had just eaten was enough to satisfy her hunger. His scan revealed otherwise and he flared his mandibles in relief. Not only were they nutritious, but they were also very similar in organic structure to many of the foods their planet had to offer. Granted those were mostly fruits and vegetables. But it was extremely good news for her.

And as if news could not get any better, a full DNA analysis had just been pushed to his holotool. He was about to scrutinize the data when they arrived at his family's residence.

Val sucked in a breath when she spotted her new home for God and Spirits knew how long. She had seen a hologram of it, but the real majesty of the place had been lost on her. The mansion was perched on a plateau that rose out of the forest and stood soundly before a breathtaking mountain range to one side.

The building itself was built around a water source that flowed off the plateau in multiple directions, and the building was clearly designed to mimic the nature around it. The walls, despite being what she guessed were there stories high in some places, were curved sheets of glass and shaped by liquid and rose from the land like they were part of it. Her heart faltered; this was a race of killers, predators, violent things, but it was also a race of scientists, artists, _lovers_.

Val opened her mouth to speak, finally, but no sound came out. She cursed silently. Her voice was legitimately gone and she did not know how long that was going to last. But she would make every effort to speak when she could. She wanted to call him by his name, in voice and in mind, because "Amber-eyes" was no longer an appropriate dignified designation to her.

The vehicle landed softly on a designated pad which lowered into the enormous building and stopped quietly beneath the bay doors that held out the weather and the other predators that lived on the planet.

"Home," he said simply, appearing to relax a little.

"Home," she had planned to echo in hear head but her voice had apparently decided to find itself.

* * *

Garrus hoped she knew what she was getting into. He did not want her to hold back so he could gauge just how much he needed to put in. It was a sparring match, meaning that whoever could pin the other first won, but Garrus could get out of any pin just by sheer strength.

This time, however, there would be no ego to get in the way. This time, however, it was _her_ taking the hits and throwing the punches. Shepard stood at the other end of the mat, wearing a tight sports-bra and tight knee-length shorts. Everything was tight. He was already straining to keep his eyes from undressing her; the clothing barely even gave him a choice. His talons twitched under the gloves he was wearing at the thought of so much soft skin underneath him. Or above him. Either notion did little to quell his distraction. His mandible twitched. Garrus prepared for one of the most difficult sparring matches he would ever endure.

Shepard read the twitch of the talon and mandible as nervousness. She knew he was going to hold back for her sake, so she was just going to have to prove him wrong. He had come to some of her martial arts practices, but he had no idea of her full capabilities.

Her thoughts had been delightfully coherent before Garrus had stripped down to just a pair of sparring pants. Now she could see everything nice and close-up… no wonder Turians considered this foreplay. She could only really dream.

Garrus flared his mandibles and lunged. Shepard waited, planning on using his own trick against him. In seconds she was pinned face-down on the mat with his hand on her neck, another between her shoulder blades, and a knee trapping her arm. The pin would have won the match, if she were Turian and could not bend in ways he had never seen.

She smirked as she curled her spine and brought her foot just under Garrus' neck and pushed. In his confusion and reflex to keep his windpipe open he backed up. But Shepard clamped his neck between the top of her foot and shin, and used the leverage to disorient him further and slam _him_ face down into the mat. She quickly backed off, drooling at how he could not be pinned before gathering herself and planning her next attack.

Garrus was unable to concentrate. Three years of Black Ops had not taught him how to avoid thinking about post-sparring activities during a sparring match the most beautiful creature known to him. That last move had certainly done its part and confused him. But now that it had worked, it seemed to have the lasting effect of occupying his mind. Turian females were flexible in ways that made human females cringe, humans were the same to turian females, but Shepard could apparently push the boundaries of both species' limitations. His pubescent mind was currently floundering in the gutter. He forced some coherence onto it and executed a dignified recovery, torqueing at the waist and pushing away with his arm to spin into the air from a lying position.

He dropped his stance and prepared another strike, but she was faster and got to him first. She swept a foot to kick his legs out from under him but he dodged, using the momentum of her leg and his own strength to flip into a handless cart-wheel. He grabbed her leg in the height of his flip which was supposed to pull her around into a pin.

Shepard however, had other ideas. Although, she had not expected him to be so acrobatically versed, which made concentrating even harder. He had grabbed her leg as he spun, so she pushed off the ground and ended up with her legs around his cowl. She practically moaned at the position alone and quickly continued the move, trying to keep her obvious salivation from showing. This was a good idea.

Garrus' mandibles fluttered as he got a face full of Shepard, she was _just_ in range of his tongue, for an instant before he was not-so-gently brought down as Shepard bent backwards, dear Spirits, and flipped him over via handspring. Every passing moment made it more and more difficult for him to keep up the reminder that this was a friendly sparring match. Between friends. Not foreplay. Not foreplay.

Shepard ended up straddling his cowl, unable to move because her lower legs were locked under his shoulders. She prepared to be launched from him like a paperweight. And launched she was. The ground and Garrus disappeared from below her almost instantaneously and she was airborne. She attempted to right herself, but the whole point of the move was to keep her downwards movement predictable.

She said goodbye to the air in her lungs in advance. She felt strong hands on her skin, and secretly wished that he had not been wearing gloves. To her surprise, she was not slammed upon the mat like the recon-scout from yesterday. Garrus clearly cared enough about her ribs to not break all of them at once. He actually ended up slowing her descent enough that the air she had awkwardly kissed goodbye stayed in her lungs. Still, he made sure that she was more thoroughly pinned than before. A forearm spanned from one triceps across her back to the other. The recon-scout really had not been lying about his reach. The palm of other hand was jammed into the small of her back, keeping her from using her hips to twist away from his grasp. A leg was pinning her knees to the ground.

"Concede yet Shepard?" he said with an obvious smug expression.

"I don't know. I could definitely give you an answer if you helped me up," Shepard replied jokingly.

"Nice try. I'll take that as a yes," he extricated himself from her slowly enough to savor it but quickly enough to stay below the radar. She felt so powerful even pinned he swore she could have gotten away without a problem. No one he had fought gave him that feeling.

Shepard felt extremely satisfied even though she had "lost," formally. It was really anything but a loss to her; it was the only time she would be that close to Garrus without actually revealing her romantic attraction. She tried not to let the frustration or forlorn longing seep into her mood. If she were some random lucky Turian she could simply grind her hips against his to send the message and enjoy a completely different type of sparring match. She supposed it would not be any different, because she had never wanted him for the nice _thick_ gun he kept hidden on him at all times. In the hypothetical situation that she and Garrus were both Turian and had a causal fling, he would go on and _love_ someone else. She would stay and hope for something she still could never have.

Both of them were surprisingly dense for how intelligence they were supposed to be.

She was transported, in that moment, to a familiar location that she had really been calling home recently: square one.

* * *

"Home."

His crown lifted just slightly and he just managed to keep the membrane locked down. Oracle had heard her speak before, but it had all been incoherent to him. Now that he could actually understand some of what she said, he could actually savor her angelic voice which sounded very clean and clear due to a lack of subharmonics.

Oracle tried not to think about how difficult spending time with her was going to be when everything about her turned him right on. She would likely never reciprocate his feelings, which is why he continued to deny the first prophecy.

But the way she said it made his heart cords flex all at once. He had heard that tone of voice before: relief mixed with sadness. She had used it when she thought he was going to kill her. It would take quite a long time to convince her to at least let him in and be her friend here.

"With me, come."

Oracle turned to two of his guards who stood awaiting orders. The sounds of their joint locks opening up signaled that they were prepared to carry out whatever task he asked of them.

"Her supplies are in the back, please have them delivered to my personal guest room."

"Sir," both said with one voice before turning to grab her supplies. He turned his attention back to Val and felt his mandibles sag a little. Despite the lower social status of the hundred or so Agents that staffed the Nostrom residence, nearly all were mated. Oracle could order the destruction of half a continent and change the lives of billions, but he could not force another to love him.

Val did as she was told and followed behind him. There were others here, standing completely and utterly still, fully armored and carrying large rifles. It was obvious that he was in charge around here; so in charge that his guards did not even flinch. None seemed to react to her presence as she and Amber-eyes walked past. Nothing, not even their eyes changed in intensity as Val had seen his do many times.

Her mind was cataloguing the variations that she saw in their colors. Most were wearing helmets, but those that did not were generally about the same shade of dark green with darker camouflage. Eye color was more variable than skin color, but she only saw a few actual colors. Green, blue, cyan, yellow, red, magenta, hell even _white_; everything _but_ fiery amber. He seemed to be unique.

The more she saw the more she was desensitized to their appearance. One was a shock, but after seeing so many without being attacked her trust in her new home slowly augmented. However, she did not feel safe, as he had promised.

Their home was enormous. It took them five minutes to walk from one end to the other where her room was located. The interior was just as modern and sleek as the exterior. The main structure appeared to be brushed aluminum or steel and the floors were polished metal. Every light source mimicked natural sunlight, and there was at least one emerald plant every ten feet or so along the walls.

Val supposed that even if her family had decided to move to a place like this she would never get used to it. There were likely zones of the house that she would never see just due to its sheer size. However, despite its volume, the building was anything but a maze; just one enormous sweeping open space connected to another.

"Here," he said, stopping at a metal door. There was a moment of awkward silence before he gave her some instructions, having realized that they must not have had any doors like this where she came from.

"Touch," he said as he made a zigzag with his hand in the air just in front of the door. Val did the same, but allowed her fingers to make contact. Little holographic rings formed around each finger that made contact and tracked them as she made the same swiping motion he had. The door clicked then opened inward with a push.

Val looked around what she guessed was going to be her room for a while. She suppressed a groan. It was like damn hotel in there: everything was utterly and completely clean, the room was vast, the various alien appliances were sleek, hell she had her own kitchen. One end of the room was a glass window which sloped upward into the ceiling and disappeared. Everything was lit with the same sunlight lights and made the room feel colder than it actually was.

The room really was cold .Her omni-tool put it at 290 K. There were various couches and chairs scattered about, fortunately, but she when she tried to spot the bed she could not.

Oh, there it was, bolted to the _ceiling_, _3 meters from the ground_. Val turned to catch Amber-eyes staring up at it as well, mandibles twitching.

"Do not worry, I get it down before the sun sets."

Val forced herself to at least show gratitude.

"Thank you."

"The pleasure is mine."

If she just… closed her eyes…

* * *

I'll admit that this chapter has some issues; I hope they don't detract too much from the plot.


	6. Separation

Thank you all for your continued enthusiasm. My friend is quite flattered.

* * *

Shepard was happy with herself for making amends with Garrus so quickly. He was quick to forgive just he always had been. Shepard knew that in a conflict between them, it was she who always limited the rate of recovery. Although, when she strained to think about it, she could not remember a time when they had really fought or argued. He always took her side if it was right; if it was wrong he found a way to work hers into the right one. Either way, Shepard never felt like she lost . _No one_ _else_ would be able to accomplish that kind of feat. She could only find that she was an idiot for thinking that he was full of himself when there was so much evidence that he had next to no pride around her.

Shepard was currently balled up at square one, trying not to run to him and confess her love before they both had to separate. It would fall on deaf ears and bloodless heart and he would crush her hopes and dreams without even saying a word. It would not even be his fault.

After the sparring match they had discussed some of their moves and even demonstrated a few to each other, but it was not nearly as obscene as the actual match had been. So once they were done and Garrus headed from the mat, Shepard remained with her deliciously forbidden thoughts of him. She _almost_ had a full picture of him to… utilize. It was convenient that she had her teenage years as an excuse otherwise it would just be silly how much she obsessed over the thought of him. She was allowed to be overly romantic. Her heart could only race she tried to imagine what the _rest_ of him looked like.

After some time she eventually got up, headed to her room, showered, and tried to figure out if there was anything else to go out and do with Garrus that did not amount a date. She only had a day or two left with him before they were both away from home. Shepard sighed and decided to waste her time watching vids on the extranet and listening to music. She reminded herself that she had other friends, but in the rush of the last few days she had not talked with any of them. She _had_ promised to stay in touch.

Her omni-tool had hundreds of messages from them that she had neither read nor replied to. She occupied her time replying and conversing with her equally nervous friends until Garrus knocked.

Garrus had left that sparring match barely able to contain himself, literally. It had been a bad idea before, and it continued to be a bad idea after because nothing could get her off his mind. It was like she had her soft but powerful legs wrapped around his very thoughts in that pin she had used during the match. But Shepard had really opened up and demonstrated her potential, completely letting go of emotions and pouring herself into the sparring. It was good to see that her recovery was going well because it hurt him to see her at square one. He could feel it when she was nearby.

He took an extremely cold shower which only served as temporary medicine because as soon as he was out he immediately remembered how she had bent at that impossible angle to extricate herself from him; how even when she was pinned, she still was not down. He decided that the sparring match was not enough stress relief for him and headed to the weight room. He designated the heaviest setting he could comfortably lift and began.

Shepard had been replying to messages for quite some time, telling those who were worrying that she was on her way to recovery and just had to take the last couple of days slow and solo. Of course, that was a lie, but they would believe her. If she mentioned Garrus once, even that she was staying with them, every single one of her circle would read the situation exactly _right_, and assume the _right_ thing about them. Her cover, however, was the opposite of the obvious.

Nothing was working. Garrus had cranked up the settings to way higher than his maxes and he was still distracted. He finally gave up and stopped; nothing was going to work aside from actual sex, and there was no way he would blow his chances on some causal mistake now that he was so damn close. He refused to cheat on her.

But somehow, he knew that there was no way he could bring himself to confess himself to Shepard and then take her in two days. He had already been straining to warm her up to the idea that he may be interested in her since as long as he could remember thinking about it. He wanted to try and gauge what she thought of a relationship with him, but all attempts had merited no response from her. She was either not picking them up or simply not interested.

Another shower, he did not even bother to keep it cold.

Garrus was hungry as hell after the workout and he guessed that Shepard probably was as well. He knocked on her door.

"Yes?" she called softly.

"You hungry?"

"After that sparring match, starved."

"Any place you prefer?"

"Yah how about _Cornerstone_," a medium sized dextro-levo quick-casual place that opened very soon after the city's foundation to help with the alliance between the humans and turians that lived there. Shepard suspected that it was a government sponsored thing because it had continued to survive, even when the business had been nonexistent when it first opened.

"Sure," he replied. They went there enough that they could be considered regular customers, "I'm buying. Let's go." His head left her doorway and Shepard promptly followed.

Garrus knew that he had not always been able to sense her like this, but he knew it was a bad sign. It meant that his connection to her was deepening on its own accord. He guessed that he would be able to hold out another six months or so before he took drastic measures.

Otherwise, he would turn into a shell, a living corpse, and every time he would come to visit her, his mind would shut down more and more of his body until he legitimately died, or replaced her with someone else to fill the void. His family would notice, she would probably notice, and he would no longer be Garrus Vakarian to the world.

* * *

The bed looked like it was upside down up there with the mattress hanging towards the ground. It was slightly thinner than most human beds; it was one and a half times as wide as a sicarian body. About three quarters of a meter's space was available between the bed structure and the ceiling. Val was still confused as to how they actually slept, but the most likely explanation to her was that they were like bats; hanging from the feet or claws. But then that did not explain why there was a bed at all.

Amber-eyes walked over to a seemingly barren zone of the all and made the same zigzag motion with his hand. The wall in that area reacted similarly with the holographic rings, and it promptly turned around to reveal a carefully organized rack of various tools.

"If you need these; here they are," he said with a careful tone. He looked at the fixture holding up the bed and then back over to the rack before selecting what looked exactly like a hex wrench. His enormous armatures reached out and hooked around the bed so he could access the bolts up there. When all four were loose, he snapped the one final fastener and the thing fell. Val was certain it was going to crush him but he held it up no problem, using both arms and wings to support the four corners as he flipped it over and set it down in the empty space directly under. He stowed the wrench among the assortment of tools which disappeared automatically.

"Try it please," he said.

Val obeyed and lay down on the somewhat thin mattress. She felt herself sink down in all the right places for a perfectly comfortable posture. She wished they had something like this back at home because she nearly fell asleep right then.

"Comfortable?" he asked, "if not, I get another."

Val spoke again finally.

"It's quite comfortable," she wavered. His eyes lit up and his mandibles spread out in a four-point star showing his teeth. Val winced expecting an attack before remembering that it was his way of smiling. She smiled back; if she could get his gesture than he could understand hers.

"Good. I leave you some silence. The only other door in the hall is mine. Open to you always. Enter if you need something. Or have question," he tacked on, "or just want to talk."

He was on his way out when the two he had given orders as they left the vehicle showed up. He quickly conversed with them in his language and stayed in the room as they walked through deposited her things carefully and neatly on the table, nodded to him, then _her_, and then left.

She still did not know what to call him besides "Amber-eyes."

Val began to search through the various survival kits that she had retrieved from the pod and organize their contents into the cabinets that the room provided. Others she would put in the… hopefully bathroom. There were some spare sets of clothes that were about the right size, a few emergency generators for heat and light, nutrient rations, general, dental , and feminine hygiene supplies.

Val surveyed the bathroom, expecting the worst. She was pleasantly surprised to find almost everything in place. A miracle in its own right. Sink, long curved mirror, a spacious shower that sunk slightly into the floor surrounded by glass. And a toilet-looking thing. It was clearly a toilet, the same general shape was there, but it was still quite alien. She was glad the survival kits had toiled paper because there was none next to the… toilet. With no water in it. Her nose wrinkled as she thought dirty about what that could only mean. At least there was a shower and sink.

The trash can looked angry; that was the best way to describe it. A little light at the top of the thing was red, indicating she knew not what. She opened the lid and threw the empty bag of rations from earlier into the thing. The light flickered green for a moment before turning back to red. She looked down there and the bag was gone. She really wanted to stick her hand in there.

Val looked at herself through the mirror for the first time in a few days and noticed just how disheveled she looked. Not bad, but not appealing either. Her auburn hair was in need of some attention and her face had dirt on it. Not to mention she smelled quite horrible having not showered in a few days.

Oracle was looking over the DNA results with quiet amazement. Everything was going to be okay. Their DNA was simple, a single chirality strand; their species had clearly never had exposure to both and therefore had never developed another strand in the other direction for compatibility. Val would be able to eat anything they gave her, so long as it was either dual or levo. Since most everything on their planet was dual now, it would not be an issue; but there were still single-sided flora and fauna. Both were quite rare and sought after for their delicacy and exotic flavors.

The only updates on the technology research were that they were green and running smoothly.

He sensed Val outside his doorway before noticing her heartbeat. He opened the door remotely and she nearly staggered in.

"Val," he was getting closer to saying her name properly, managing to close off the 'a' sound a little more, "need me for something?"

That was not something that Oracle got to say. No one ever needed him for anything and expected him to do it. Being 101st percentile meant that he was in charge of _everyone_. But here was an alien, and he was about to do whatever she asked of him. Despite how inefficient it was, it felt much better to do something for another, than to mandate and watch the order go through unquestioned.

Val found Amber-eyes sitting on the couch waving through his omni-tool, which could apparently cast a static hologram and counteract the movement of his arm. He was no longer wearing his armor, but rather, quite stylish civvies, which did nothing but captivate her temporarily. Over the deep navy-blue cloth, a metal button just to one side of the neck connected to another just below the pectoral line on the opposite side in a diagonal line. The metal stripe continued down his shirt to waist level. The pants he wore mimicked the shirt. Gaps at the shoulders showed off enormous deltoids, triceps, and the tops of his biceps. The sleeves continued down to his wrists and metal bands outlined the forearm wings so they could escape if he desired their use.

She noticed that there were some oddly shaped protrusions that ran from the outside of his pectorals to the solar plexus and the down to the… crotch-area. She tried not to let her imagination go wild with that. Similar protrusions started to the sides of his hips and wrapped around to the insides of his legs, and the lower legs had ones that wrapped around to the back, mounted almost like Turian spurs. Those awkward looking feet were gloved by metal boots with indentations to show off the three toe claws.

His wings were tucked under his arms so that they did not interfere with the position he was in. He had raised his brow ridges and his mandibles had slowly spread into an obvious smirk at the way she was staring. Val cleared her head but not her blush.

"You ask question, or you stare?"

No way. _No way _Amber-eyes just _flirted_ with her. Now, she only had to figure out if she was disgusted by it. She promised herself she would figure out if she really found them repulsive when she had a quiet moment.

Oracle stopped himself before he said anything more. His heart cords misfired a few times as he realized what he had done. He hoped that the significance of his little flirt would be lost on her. He searched her face for anything besides disgust and found nothing. Good, for now.

"Sorry," she stammered, apparently she was universally bad at communicating with males, always the introvert back at home, "how do I use the shower," the blush deepened. It seemed like it should be obvious.

Oracle had expected as much. Without changing his tone or appearing condescending he answered honestly.

"Touch the glass to use. Heat is in… K"

"Um… which glass?"

"Any,"

"Thank you,"

"Always," he finished before turning his attention back to his holotool, the various other reports that poured in, and the English dictionary that he had found amongst the "omni-tool" data and was currently absorbing. He frowned when he realized too late that the display would be completely Sicarian. When he knocked on her door a couple seconds later he found that it had auto-locked due to the use of the washroom.

Val returned and decided to figure out how the… toilet, worked, because she legitimately needed to use it after all that water she drank. No sooner had she sat down that it made a clicking noise and her body immediately sent her the message that she had… well _gone to the bathroom_. She sat stunned for a second trying to figure out what the hell had happened. Apparently she no longer needed to go. Still in a daze, disbelieving herself, she got up and removed the rest of her clothes before stepping into the shower.

She did as he instructed and touched the glass. A small digital display with a couple of value sliders flew around and rested beneath her fingertips. The large symbols that she assumed were numbers were still completely alien to her, so she just set on the lowest and tapped the green button which also had some alien lettering on it. The frigid water shocked her skin so she dragged digital slider until it felt warm enough.

The shower head was slightly spherical in shape so that it spouted water out in a fan that reached from her hair to her shins. She quickly found out that the second slider was the water pressure which she proceeded to exploit to her pleasure.

There were more options but she did not go near them.

Finally under the comforting spray of water, such a familiar sensation, Val forgot that she was millions of light-years away from home.

* * *

Garrus drove them into the city and they found docking close by. Shepard had already jumped ahead a few squares since they had entered the car and stayed ahead for the duration of their meal. She counted every opportunity Garrus refused to take to flirt or leave her hanging and really just transferred them to the part of her mind that told her that his level of commitment, to her, would never be matched in any human she would find. So her options were either feel betrayed by her friend's ego, or feel torn in two by his complete lack thereof. Shepard really was a wreck.

Garrus found it extremely easy to ignore the glances and subharmonics begging that the cute Turian waitress kept shooting him but almost impossible to ignore the heated glances with which some of the other human males in the room were devouring his… best friend. Shepard was not exactly a stranger; she was still highly sought after.

Shepard did not seem to notice so he tried not to make a big deal out of it. Shepard was really thinking about something hard because she was slightly less responsive than usual. He accepted it as emotional falloff from the loss of her dearest loved ones and did not push the subject because it was the last thing that he wanted her to focus on.

Their conversation was harmless; things that Ada found interesting or funny from life, news, or the school year and Garrus' "jokes" from the fuel she provided or how difficult Black Ops training was. He only really told her what could be found online or heard from other Turians because a lot of the training involved was highly secretive and legitimately grueling, designed to change the adolescent and empty-minded Turian trainees into hardened operators of war. Garrus had made sure to keep up with himself, thinking about Shepard maintained a part of Garrus Vakarian that she would always want around, but she had no idea what he been transfigured into by the training.

It warmed his heart to feel Shepard laugh and bask in her glistening smile. Both of which were rare; anyone but him rarely ever saw both at once, and especially not now that she thought of herself as isolated even when her friends were all around offering their arms to support her. Garrus still had this pit in his stomach that murmured to him constantly about her going off to Anderson, located on Earth. She would be legitimately alone there. The recovery process also seemed to reset every day; because every day she would wake up in tears and go to bed in tears. It was a vicious cycle of depression that he feared she would be trapped under forever.

He supposed he could relate though. The feelings from his dream had been all too real and all too premature. It was like missing a limb; there _was_ no recovery from that because it was simply gone. One could only cope with it. And every time its use was demanded the inability to actually use it would serve as reminder of its absence.

He keened softly for her, glad that she was unable to hear the soft ministrations of his subharmonics. He would have given himself away so long ago if not for inferior human hearing.

Shepard's feelings would rise every time he talked. The temporary high would result in a reminder that not only would she never see her family again but she would never be able to have him, and Shepard would land back where she started. If the cycle continued this way she predicted insanity would be the eventual permanent result.

Garrus paid and they left still maintaining their false conversation, both under different guises. They parted ways back at the Vakarian residence and that was all she saw of him until dinner. He ordered something for himself and she herself and they ate in relative silence at the dinner table. They were the only ones in the house. Shepard found this whole situation a simulation of a hypothetical fantasy. She acted it out in her head because it was the best she could do. Dimly lit, candles, good food, if she got her way Garrus would not be wearing a shirt or anything.

Shepard spent the next few days doing the same thing over and over. Waking up depressed, talking to Garrus and feeling annoyingly aroused, bottling up her emotions, going to bed trying to stop herself from fanaticizing about what he would feel like, and then falling asleep with memories of her family that only reversed any sort of happiness she may have found during the day.

It was possible the unhealthiest combination of emotions she could display.

Garrus was her rock; he always had something for them to do together and cheer her up. It was making her inevitable trip to Earth all that much more preemptively painful. She knew she could not go it alone but she did not tell anyone that. She wanted to go back to being the Ada Shepard that everyone else knew her as.

When the day finally came for her to pack her things and prepare for the early morning flight to earth she still did not attempt to cry out for help. Too late.

Aevia, Avarus, and Garrus were there at the starport to see her off on the big day. All three noticed the way she was carrying herself and all three were concerned. However, all three trusted that she would have told them if something was really wrong and she needed more time to cope with her losses.

"Goodbye Ada," Avarus said as if addressing his own daughter, "we're so proud of your accomplishments and wish you well in your endeavors. I could tell you would go far since you were a little girl."

Shepard heard her deceased father speaking through him. Her eyes were already glistening but now a tear actually formed. He wiped it from her face and then leaned in and grazed his mandible against her cheek. Shepard was slowly realizing that she could reconsider and take more time to heal, but it felt far too late. Her mother spoke next.

"Stay in touch, little one," Aevia repeated the gesture that her mate had.

That left Garrus, and the all-important question of whether or not he was going to repeat the gesture that his parents had. If he did not she swore she would kill herself.

"Don't work yourself too hard Ada, make lots of friends, don't drink from the unlabeled punch bowls, and continue to kick everyone's' ass" Garrus joked, Ada gave a wet grin, and with all of his efforts he tried to sum up his love for her in the words, "I'll miss you."

Then, to the difficulties of her heart and her composure, he leaned in and grazed his mandible against her cheek. She had to lock her knees to stay standing upright. He did not stay longer than his parents but it felt like he did. When he finally drew away the announcement for her section to begin boarding swept her away.

Shepard worked her way to her room on the cruiser and unpacked some of her gear. After a couple of hours getting acquainted with the ship on which she would be staying the next few day cycles, she sat down on the bed, closed her eyes, and touched her cheek where his mandible had, trying to project the feeling into her fingertips. She showered off, did not even bother to change in to her nightwear, got under the covers and shamelessly fantasized about Garrus Vakarian.

Garrus prepared for Black Ops, real full-time Black Ops the next day. When he finally returned to the solitude of his room he traced a talon along the mandible that had made contact with her skin. He had not made the contact intimate, with much difficultly it had been completely chaste, but he could certainly imagine. He had memorized the way she felt when they sparred and applied it to much closer situations. His plates loosened as he shamelessly fantasized about Ada Shepard.

* * *

Val cleaned herself up, scrubbing down her skin multiple times with the shampoo from the survival kit and then once experimentally with the provided shampoo which smelled quite nice and did not sting or irritate her skin when she tested it. She skipped using the body wash from the kit and used the provided one instead because, unlike the provisional one, it was actually scented. And somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that it was because she wanted to leave all reminders of her old life behind if she could.

She tapped the large red button and the water stopped. She wrapped a towel around herself and admired her handiwork. Perhaps it was the light or the body wash that caused her skin to glint in such a way, but she definitely looked brighter, far brighter than she ever had.

She walked into the main room, grabbed some fresh clothing, and opened up her omni-tool. Val began to write a journal about her experience there. Occasionally she flipped through old photos for something to occupy her time while she waited for something to happen.

As she had predicted Amber-eyes knocked on her door a few minutes later.

"Yes?" she called softly. The door pushed open and he stood there. He opened his mouth but paused and waited for a few seconds.

"Are you hungry?" he finally managed after breathing in her scent for a good few seconds without letting it show on his expression.

Val had eaten an entire bag of those chips but those had only really satisfied the previous days without meals. Now that she was caught up she actually was quite hungry for a legitimate meal. Hopefully they served _food_ here.

"Yes."

"Dinner is served. You can eat the food, everything compatible. I checked."

That was certainly a pleasant surprise. That did not mean that it was any good, it just meant that she would be able to digest it. In the likely worse-case scenario that the food tasted like complete garbage Val convinced herself that she would learn to crave it.

Amber-eyes led her through the vaults until they arrived at a surprisingly intimate dining room in which there was a table that looked like it could seat about six at most. He took a quick stride to get out in front of her and pulled a chair back at the head of the table. He motioned to it with a hand and she took the hint and sat down on the soft leathery surface. She did not have to pull herself towards the table, he did that for her. She could not stop the blush; he went so far out of his way to make sure she was comfortable and he was such a gentleman, at least by human standards.

He took the closest seat next to her.

They were the only two at the table. Val was too nervous to break the silence. Eating meals in every alien culture she was aware of was considered important enough to have some kind of dinner etiquette. The Shepard family had never really observed those rules opting instead for much more personal and casual experiences.

She did not want every meal here to feel "rich" to her, she loathed those who flaunted their wealth every time they sat down to eat and focused less on the gathering and more on how much the food cost, and how upscale they could crank the experience. That was exactly how she felt here.

Oracle noted her hesitation and started to postulate as to why she seemed so reserved at the table like this. He thought it rude to ask so just kept himself silent. He perked up at the smell of the dish wafting in through the door; cuts from the _Tarenov_ he killed had been prepared and from what he could smell, prepared beautifully.

Val smelled it too, mouth watering profusely; whatever was about to be brought out smelled amazing. Her hopes turned up that it may actually be appetizing and none of this "learn to eat shit" garbage would apply. Another pang of guilt stabbed through her; too many assumptions and expectations about this place were so far ruining her experience because she often expected the worst. So far, the best possible outcomes of every situation had befallen her. Her life could not be more miraculous than it was right now.

Despite so many things going wrongs, far more things had actually gone _right_.

She was alive. She had food, water, and shelter. She had a companion who sought after her and made sure she was comfortable. Amber-eyes was some kind of god among these creatures because whatever he asked of them they simply did without question; which included treating her, Val Shepard, a completely new and alien species, as if she were Amber-eyes' equal.

Two of them, one male and one female, appeared through the doorway and set down a glass filled with a colored mystery liquid, a plate with a cut of meat surrounded by what looked like cooked fruit, and a bowl filled with a thick light brown sauce.

Some very human looking utensils were set down: a fork with three prongs, an oddly shaped spoon and a sharpened knife.

"You don't have to eat if you find it too repulsive," Val swore he had gotten better at speaking English in the hours that they had been back at the residence. He looked nervous. He shifted uncomfortable and picked up his utensils, sliced off a section of his cut, passed the strip through the sauce and then ate it.

The cut of meat did look and smell very good so she followed suit and tried a small bite. It tasted about as amazing as it smelled, like steak but slightly sweeter. She trusted him enough to believe that nothing would actually kill her.

"This tastes very good," Val said a little sheepishly, trying to remember how to have manners when eating at someone else's household which was difficult. Even when they ate at the Vakarian's, which was often, their meals were about the same as her family's; everything was light-hearted and simple despite the family's wealth and status among Turian hierarchy.

His mandibles fluttered at her comment. Val ate the whole plate along at the same thoughtful rate that he did. She found herself opening her consciousness up to accept everything new around her as positive. Everything about this place was civilized, including the way they ate; like dignified people rather than ravenous monsters.

She did not ask him about the drink and just went for it, finding that it too was pleasant. It was clearly a fruit cocktail, but the flavor was indescribable. She began to make new associations in her mind; if she was to live here she would learn to identify flavors by only those on this planet; not those from elsewhere.

"What is the name of this drink?" she asked.

"_Alemitsia_. Grown here," he replied with the contented tone of voice he always used. The name of the fruit was foreign, and included all the extra vocal layers. She did not try to pronounce it.

"I like it."

"There's plenty," he replied with a good-nature grin.

_How_ could he be a monster, when _this_ is how he always acted? Val learned the flavor and stored it with the name.

Once they finished, the same two that had delivered their meals took everything away. He rose and pulled her chair back, which signaled that she was to leave with him. He talked as they walked back to their adjacent rooms.

"If possible, can I get some your clothing that fits you? I can order _Sicarian_ clothing made with proper size."

_Sicarian_. It was most likely the title that they gave their race, but it could refer _anything_. For all Val knew it could be a status designation, the name of the family, clan, whatever. Val nodded absent mindedly, not really thinking too hard about his question.

Everything still felt like a dream, but none of the ones before this had been as real and as long. She kept checking reality for flaws and always turned up with nothing. She did as he asked and grabbed some of the clothing that she knew would fit her and entered his room.

"Thank you, Val. New clothing is ready soon," he placed the set of clothing down on the table and turned back to her before she could leave.

"If you want to talk with me, I'm always willing."

Val simply nodded and made to return to her room but he stopped her with his voice.

"Wait, Val," he said much softer than before. She turned and met him face to face. His hands were on her shoulders but she did not pull away as she had before. "I… I feel the turmoil of your mind. It may fall to deaf ears, but I urge you to open up, even if just a little."

He was probably at the top of the power chain because she sure as hell wanted to do exactly what he said. Val looked away from his penetrating gaze. He was getting better at English literally by the second.

"Not yet."

He released her shoulders and took a short step back.

"Only when you are ready. Goodnight, Val," He stepped back and sat down again on the couch.

The were no light switches but her hunch that every wall was actually a touch screen surface proved right and after some fumbling around for the correct button she found the one that dimmed and turned the lights off completely.

Val was thinking very much about how little she actually knew about him; and now that he could hold a conversation with her she could find out most of that information. Something shifted around inside her. She saw everything he did as gentlemanly and found it, in the depths of her mind, cute. But if he was way older than she was then Val knew she would find his half-advances pedophilic. Only, no matter how much she tried to place his age, she always returned to young. Something about his aura just told her that he was young.

She had to figure out if she really found him attractive or not. His features, if human, would _destroy_ any women in the room if he were to walk in. He would essentially push tall, dark, and handsome to painful levels; the guy that every shallow social girl wants but only the quiet thoughtful one gets. But the odd fringes, the rhomboid plate that lay covering the bridge of his nose and part of the forehead, the unblinking eyes, the mandibles and jaw. Val was not ready to see him as anything more than friendly. Yet.

Val stripped off her outer clothes, brushed her teeth with the products from the survival kit and then got into the extremely comfortable bed that supported her in all the right places. Val fell asleep, exhausted from it all, but finally safe in her new world of miracles.


	7. Isolation

This chapter may or may not have some grammar and spelling errors. Also more graphic imagery warning.

Chronology in this and following chapters may or may not line up anymore.

* * *

Oracle was still going over data from Val's mother's omni-tool when he finally got word from his people on the starship. They send back vid logs, audio logs, and text logs of their excursion and their finds on the alien craft.

They had discovered a huge reserve of the mysterious eezo; the reactor core was still completely intact. His heart cords were practically tearing with the news. Not only would they be able to indefinitely replicate the element, but they would have a functional core ready for study. His scientific teams had requested funding for a research project which he did even think twice about granting.

They had found bodies. Thousands of bodies. There was no life left on the cruiser. Oracle looked over the videos they had sent him and saw the familiar faces of Val's species. His breath stopped when he looked at the damage that had been inflicted upon them, however. Almost everyone was riddled with bullet wounds from unknown attackers; those that had driven Val into an escape pod and those that had taken her mother away.

There was a next set of files that had been deemed simply "caution." A note accompanied it that read: _Upon further investigation we found signs of an act that caused half my Agents to vomit up their latest meal. You have been warned._ Oracle raised a brow ridge in confusion and opened the section. Some of the damage done to the bodies was already grueling. If it was worse than Oracle may or may not want to find out what exactly they had found.

He was met with pictures of hideous looking four eyed things, not to far different from humans. There were also pictures of primarily female bodies that were completely naked, covered with scratches around the waist and groin. Some had rips in the vulnerable pink flesh. Frozen or dried red and white fluids were present around the bodies. The faces of these females, and even a few males, were contorted in pain, stained with tears and humiliation.

It appeared as if these horrid aliens had succeeded in forcibly _mating_ with them. Oracle's eyes widened and he felt his stomach turn over. It quickly launched into his throat. He was at the toilet faster than he could pass a thought, waiting for it to clear out the inevitable vomit. He heaved once and it clicked, projecting an energy conversion field that removed everything it detected as waste and converted it to energy for reuse.

He heaved a second time and it clicked again. He was breathing only through the intakes on his neck because his mouth was currently occupied.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Soon enough his stomach was empty.

Rape was a concept that existed to Sicarians, but forcing oneself onto another solely for the purpose of humiliation, degradation, and assertion of power via sexual intercourse did not exist. This was the first time Oracle had seen anything so terrible. Ever.

He went back to his holotool after rinsing his hands down and made a new file about these monsters. They were clearly sapient, most were armed with weapons and clad in armor, but even animals had more dignity than that.

These scourge deserved to die painful and slow deaths. He had so much tolerance for anything foreign, it was how he maintained a stable planetary society, but he had _no_ tolerance for any animal that behaved the way these did. Lights be damned the first thing he would do after entering his people into the galactic community was to provide it with a favor:

Wipe these monsters out.

He caught himself growling.

The vessel had a small armory and emergency arms from which they had retrieved a wide variety of weaponry. He denied his Agents the clearance to take the weapons from the four-eyed animals. He gave his Centurias directing operations onboard the dormant cruiser free reign to do whatever with the bodies of the animals. Preferably mutilate then space them. Those of Val's race were to be properly cremated according to Sicarian ceremony. It was clear who those deserving of ascension were and those deserving of damnation.

He ordered at least one male body, one not damaged beyond scrutiny, of Val's race to be brought back to surface for yet another autopsy. He wanted as much information about her race as possible, and that included males.

He contacted those who had recently finished the analysis of her mother, apologized, and told them they were to conduct another. They accepted the job without complaint. His Agents onboard returned some additional medical data regarding her race as well as chemicals for examination.

Oracle continued his management, getting a hold his Masters of Ceremony to encase Val's mother in a casket and prepare her for burial. A design and construction team was then given the task of creating a large monument around the pod to capture the importance of first contact. A few square kilometers around the site would be developed into a public park. The pod would mark the center and lie encased by reinforced glass. A tall spire would be erected to mark it, under which Val's mother and the yet to be determined male would be buried. A plaque inscribed in both English and Sicarian would explain the significance of the monument and how it represented a turning point for the entire race.

He assumed that this was not disrespectful in Val's culture.

With his directions received by all facets, he returned his focus to her language. He knew that he had been leaving verb tenses out of speech; Sicarian was simpler with tenses, all of which were expressed on the first level of subvocals, instead of requiring different words for the tenses themselves.

He continued to absorb and placed his previous predictions of complete mastery in five years to three.

He had half expected the awful splitting headache that overcame him in the next moment. Val was in the middle of a nightmare again, and he would be damned if he did not do something about it. He listened to her heartbeat and breathing through the doorway to her room just to make sure he was not mistaking it for something else and unlocked her door.

* * *

Val woke up in her bed back on Concordia. She sat up and looked around, rubbing her eyes. Of course, once she had finally accepted all that had happened and finally found hope with her life, she woke up. Something seemed too familiar about the feeling however. She could remember feeling the same thing during the nightmare from a few nights before.

She walked from her bedroom to the kitchen and was met with the smiling faces of her family; including her sister whom she had missed dearly during Turais Academy.

"Good morning sweety, sleep well?" her mother greeted cheerfully, reading her data pad and drinking a cup of coffee.

"I had a really strange dream."

Waffles. Delicious. Alan Shepard set down a plate in front of her and she dug in.

"So," Ada said expectantly, "are you going to elaborate… or what?"

"You'd think I was crazy."

"It's a dream," Ada said smirking, "so no shit."

"Language," Hannah said sternly.

"Sorry mom," her sister replied grinning. Hannah did not really care about her daughter's language at this point, but her dislike for profanity permeated throughout her life. Val knew Ada knew that.

"Alright," Val began, "mom, dad, and I were on a transport cruiser called the _SSV Starcutter_ on our way back from my graduation at Turais on Earth when we were attacked by Batarian…" the holoscreen in the other room flashed on by itself and broadcasted a lockdown warning. Sirens around the city went off. What a coincidence, a pirate attack. But she _knew_ she remembered the alarm from somewhere else, sometime before this event and not in a dream.

The sounds of explosions erupted around them and Val screamed. This could not be happening. Again, it seemed. Ada's eyes narrowed and she got up, rushing to her room and grabbing her father's assault rifle as well as her own. Hannah, whom she had never seen use her biotics, now glowed azure.

Shouts could be heard outside but they stayed indoors. They would have to hold out until the Alliance or hierarchy response teams arrived. The first gunshots rang out, one of which shattered a window. Alan shouldered his rifle and poked his head over the sill. He ducked, waiting to fire as long as possible so as not to draw attention to their presence.

Everyone was teary eyed.

"Listen everyone," Alan growled quietly, "we're going to make it. Don't give up; losing hope makes us as good as dead. And if something does come up," he leaned over and kissed Hannah on the lips, "I love you Hannah." He turned to Val and Ada, "I could not ask for better children than you two. You have each exceeded many times over any hypothetical expectations I have. I love you both."

He pulled them into his arms and squeezed.

"But that was all pointless, because we are going to be fine," his usual optimism showed through.

"God I hope Garrus and his family are alright," Ada murmured. Val hoped with her, "I don't want either of us to die without having told him…"

"That you love him, dear?" Hannah finished off, "You practically do every day without realizing it. You are both just too dense to see it. He loves you back as well you know; I talked with Aevia about it and now that everything's on the table I thought it would be good for you to know."

"What?"

"Oh please, honey, I know you heard every word I said," their mother said with a smirk, "you just want to hear me say that he loves you again don't you."

Ada nodded again slowly and swallowed. Now she _really_ had incentive to get out alive.

Val could only sit there and feel useless. Her mother had biotics, her sister and father carried assault weapons. A few more shots rang out and ricocheted off one of the walls.

"Shit," her father muttered."

"Language, dear," her mother returned.

"Sorry love."

They waited in silence some more before one of the doors splintered and a group of about twenty Batarians flooded through too quickly to effectively shoot. Ada and Alan downed two or three each before their rifles were bounced out of their hands by stray bullets and overloads. Hanna sent one splattering against the wall with her biotics. Val screamed again knowing full well what was coming.

"You bastard!" one of the slimy Batarian's roared and aimed his gun at her disarmed father, who was defensively baring his teeth, unafraid to stare down death.

Another Batarian, clearly the ring leader of this small section put his hand up and grinned evilly.

"You killed six of my crew, human, I plan to collect."

"I swear to God I'll _fucking kill you_!" Alan roared and charged. He received two shots in each leg which brought him down quickly. Hannah's biotics had flickered out at that point; too many years of disuse rendered them too weak to remain effective.

"Ah, ah, ah" the malicious creature taunted, lowering the pistol, "you'll stay right where you are. You're going to sit there and watch as my men take their bodies, then their lives. But I think I'll let you live," he laughed.

Oh God, Val knew what that mean exactly. So did his men, who were now looking self-satisfied and superior. Val felt sick to her stomach.

"Hold them down, start with her," he said pointing directly at Val. No. Tears were streaming freely. Three men held down her father, mother, and sister. None of them were strong enough to break the grasps.

Her mother and father were crying out with rage and fear. Ada's eyes had glassed over. Val wanted to tell them to look away.

Two pairs of dirty hands groped her in all sorts of disgusting ways, clambering under her shirt and ungracefully fondling her still developing breasts. She gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut. Another hand was digging around in her panties, threatening to slip inside her. Her body trembled with fear. A finger grazer her clit and she screamed. A horrifyingly satisfied laugh sounded just next to her ear.

"Still a virgin are you?" he laughed harder, "you're quite wet. You must really want me." _No!_

Her underwear was ripped down to her knees. An eerie silence descended for a few moments before she heard a commotion of screams and crashes and opened her eyes.

There were five completely black-armor clad harbingers of death, those from her dream,in the room who were currently laying waste to the Batarians. The two who had been about to rape her where skewered by the wing armatures, _through their armor_, of the shortest armored figure, who then reached out with his long arms and pulled them even closer. They were screaming in pain but it only got worse. The armored figure slammed his forearm armatures through their necks all the way to the wrist so his two-thumbed hand could reach inside the wound and wrap around the spine. The two Batarians' heads were separated from their bodies as the black wraith yanked them apart.

It turned and used one of the heads to smash in another one's face. It dug a knife, blade alight, into the chest plate and pried it apart easily. Val noticed that was not all it had pried apart. The knife had created an incision in the chest which was now gaping open, the ribs splayed apart.

Val did not know why, but she found herself thoroughly satisfied with this whole thing. These horrible creatures, who planned to rape her, her sister, her mother, then kill them were being destroyed only in the way they deserved. Painfully, mercilessly, brutally. Val clutched her head, disgusted with herself for finding any of this appropriate. She knew herself; she would _never_ be okay with this.

She pulled the underwear back up to restore her dignity.

Once all of the attackers had been brutally dealt with, only the ring leader was left in the clutches of the shortest of the squadron, who was still taller than all of them. It detached the assault rifle from its back and nailed the Batarian to the wall with rail spikes in the shoulders, hips, and for good measure, the crotch. Finally he slammed the gun into his jaw, shattering it, and fired off another shot that pierced the back of his throat. They left him there to drown.

The shortest one commanded something of the others and they left, taking flight once out the door. It knelt down at her father and pressed its armored hand against his wounds. He gritted his teeth, but soon enough the pain clearly subsided.

Alan hoarsely whispered "thank you," to the thing, which nodded and checked on all of them before stopping at Val. It fell to its knees, removed its helmet, and pulled her into his arms. They were arms of a friend, no, a friend too afraid to confess their forbidden attachment. She felt safe nonetheless; safer than ever, and she held on with a chaste grasp.

"Val," he murmured in her ear.

Amber-eyes. Her face was so close to his. She decided that he was attractive. Very attractive. But was it anything more complex than that? And for whatever reason, Val chose that moment to blurt out some complete gibberish word

"Ilus,"

…

"Val!"

Oracle grabbed her shoulder to stop her from tossing and shook gently. Her eyes flew wide open and she practically launched straight out of the upside-down bed. He shot a radial out to stop her roll off the opposite side of the bed and pulled her back.

"Ilus," she whispered.

Time stopped for a moment and he just managed to keep his eyes from flashing to full intensity and blinding her. He told himself it was a coincidence; that it was just another word in her language which accidentally line up with theirs. Once fully awake her eyes focused and she stared at him for a good few minutes before attempting speech.

"Uh… what happened?"

"I felt your nightmare so I wake you," he said.

Val was speechless. "I… thank you." Oracle could see that tears had dried onto her face. He did not stop himself from wiping away a stray that had formed, careful to keep his thumb talon from lacerating her skin.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked already knowing she would not want to. She averted her gaze like she always did when awkward and shook her head.

"Not… yet,"

Oracle said nothing for a while.

"Alright. Only if you want to," he was not going to force her to do anything. He trusted that she would talk about it when she really felt she was ready, but that was looking far off in the distance.

"I," Oracle began, a little embarrassed to even be asking, "I can stay in here until morning, if you prefer."

Val turned her gaze back to his slowly and finally nodded slowly. His heart and lung cords contracted in a misfire before smoothly coordinating once again.

"Alright."

Oracle went to pull the blanket which had been thrown from the bed in her tossing back up and noticed for the first time just how little she was wearing when she slept: just a band of cloth around her breasts and waist. Now all of his heart cords misfired at once. Everything else was delicious expanses of silk skin. Her curves were exquisite and captivating, highly reminiscent of a Sicarian female. Her form was lithe and slightly athletic, even for her young relative age. He averted his attention, ashamed with himself for taking advantage of her like that, and quickly pulled the blanket up to her shoulders.

He sat down on the couch and allotted part of his focus to watching her out the corner of his eye. He returned to managing operations from his holotool which he flipped to infrared so it would not disturb her. He absent mindedly began breathing out his neutral scent, his superconscious reminding him that it had worked before to calm her.

Val knew that that the whole ordeal back at home had been the dream. The city they lived in on Concordia was under permanent protection from a turian dreadnaught in geostationary orbit around the planet. If any unauthorized ships got too close, it would be torn in half in the blink of an eye. Half of the city's criminal control forces were made up of top-trained Humans and Turians. A large group of pirates would never have set foot within the city limits without first being shredded by sniper fire.

She had feeling that this "rape nightmare" would reoccur often; it was her mind telling her that it was not over the trauma from just three days previously. She seriously considered talking with Amber-eyes. He already had made a habit of waking her from her nightmares and making sure she felt safe before allowing her to slip off to sleep. And with the feeling that he was guarding her, both in waking and in her dreams, she relaxed.

But the manner with which they had addressed each other in the dream had set her on edge. There was no doubt that the murmur of her name on his… lips was anything other than passionate. And the same applied to her; she clearly wanted everything that he gave through simply saying her name. His almost synthetically strong arms around her, so tender and gentle despite having gruesomely quartered those who were almost about to rape her and her family, had given her the feeling of intense safety.

This time, he had kept their entire family alive, instead of just her. Part of Val wished to return to where they left off, to explore her own feelings about him in greater detail, and figure out if she was ready to call him a close friend or something else. She certainly was not about to wake up and attempt to seduce him. She was for too young and far too alien to him for any attraction to exist. She was also far too rational to simply fall in love with a complete alien stranger after just _three days_.

She did not, however, return to her dreams. She woke up with Amber-eyes still sitting on the couch next to her bed, wearing a tranquil expression and reading something on his omni-tool. His eyes were obsidian.

Light streamed through the huge wall window at the far end of the room and a pleasant scent of lavender and citrus, which she now identified with Amber-eyes, filled her room. She watched his eyes light up to their usual fiery color. He smiled without turning his head.

"Good morning, Val. I hope you sleep well,"

As Val sat up, the blanket dropped down from her shoulders to her waist. She noticed him wince and his hand twitch.

"You mean after the-"

"Nightmare, yes," he qualified, trying to look everywhere but her completely exposed abdominals. Eventually he would have to explain a few things to her.

"I did. Thank you."

Val was getting used to these awkward silences.

"Does it interest you to learn about us Val?"

"If I'm going to live here for a long time, which is highly likely, I have to learn about your people don't I?"

"Is that yes?"

"It is."

"I teach you about us: our history, society, culture, and anatomy."

"And your language?" Val completed.

"I… don't think your people has the right number of vocals for that."

Val frowned; so they were like turians literally. She could probably modify the translator on her omni-tool to emulate the proper vocalizations; both produce them from her voice and construct them back from his speech. She could do it. Her mind was already running algorithms and lines of code.

"I can rewrite my translator to accommodate for the additional vocal layers," Val stated assuming that he would not believe her. She could sense his hesitation.

"If you know you can then please, I can give you progress I've recorded, my own translations" he said finally. She could not help the smirk on her face; he had no idea who she was. The smug expression quickly fell because all this time, neither of them had really introduced themselves to the other formally. Amber-eyes magically knew her name and English, having probably hacked into her omni-tool at some point to find out that information. She did not really care at this point, because the ends had justified the intrusion.

But she needed a name from him. Oracles thoughts were about the same; only he was thinking of how to break it to Val that they had essentially taken apart her mother, but her back together exactly the way they found her, and were now constructing a monument in her name.

He had never given her his name. He planted his face into his palms and growled at his own stupidity.

"I'm so sorry, please forgive. My name is _Vael'en _ of _Nostrom_," and then forgetting to speak in her language he said, "I cannot believe you had to go all this time without a proper name. How rude of me!"

"What was that?" she asked.

"Just… angry with self. Very rude to not introduce after all this time."

"Vayelen Nostrom," Val repeated. It sounded different on her lips; all the sounds in his name came from her mouth rather than a combination of all the subvocals. But it was more than satisfactory. Oracle was sure he had butchered her name when he attempted it the first few times. She certainly was not butchering his name.

His mandibles spread into a smile, reassuring Val that she had at least reproduced the sound decently. She smiled back; she finally had a name. He had started as "it," then gone to "he," then "Amber-eyes." Now, to the best of her ability, it was Vayelen. She felt like they were finally on the same level. For the first time she really felt comfortable in speaking to him.

"You are a male right?" she muttered, not expecting him to hear.

He laughed a rich laugh without condescension or mockery.

"Yes, sorry for confusion if any."

"That's what I thought, you just… never know."

"When I see you first in the pod, I not know either," he replied still grinning. Val was getting better at reading their expressions.

She chuckled in recognition at the thought, but related it to her own experience.

"We eat morning meal first. Then we begin?"

"Breakfast," Val corrected.

"Hm?"

"The word for 'morning meal' in our language is 'breakfast.'"

"Oh, thank you. Breakfast," he memorized the word, "Remember the path?"

"I do,"

"Lead the way, Val," he said. Val knew he was testing her, but that was only necessary for her own safety here. None of the guards would be able to tell where to go; at least not until she understood their language. Vayelen said a few clipped lines of his language in the direction of his forearm before turning his attention back to her.

"Good morning mom and dad. Have you already eaten?"

His father's reply came a little late. He knew exactly what that meant. His parents really took advantage of their off days, nighttime and early morning were their preferred times to… reaffirm the stability of their relationship, to put it euphemistically.

"Not yet; how is our -mmm- guest? Do you want us to meet her over breakfast?"

"She is fine. And no, you can go back to your… time off, I apologize for interrupting" he said with humor on his subharmonics. He, like many others, took pride in his parents' extremely stable and strong relationship, which had really come under pressure from his being Oracle.

"It will just be us again, I make us food. I think you like it," he told Val.

Val inwardly smiled at her own willingness to simply converse with Vayelen. He was going to make something for them. That was… quite attractive. She guessed it ran in the family.

"If it is going to be as good as last night's meal, then I'm sure I'll like it,"

"I'm sorry, my English vocabulary is not large enough to describe it. I promise it is good,"

"I trust you."

* * *

Garrus Vakarian had managed to perform as everyone had expected of him. He was now a part of Black Ops, the real-deal, nothing there was a training exercise anymore. If he was given an assignment, there would only ever be one chance to do it right the first time.

His accolades at training had placed him at the head of an elite squad, members close to his age, and under the command of a coordinator; a position that he was quite happy with. Unlike standard basic, there was no foul-play in Black Ops. Each one of his men and women were devoted to him without seeing age as a pretext to experience. If he was able to outperform Turians even years older than he was no less deserving of respect. This phenomenon of merit before everything else was only present in Black Ops.

He was the first to arrive at the cots and unpack his things. There were six empty Turian beds. He took the one nearest to the door. He sat down on the cot and thought about Shepard until he heard footsteps. He kept his head down.

"Garrus Vakarian?" a young and very attractive female voice rung out. He looked up. She really was as attractive as her voice made her out to be, one reliable quality about turians.

"Taera Castus (20), it is an honor to meet you," he bowed her head in respect. The Castus clan was extremely low tier status, but that was overlooked in Black Ops.

"And you as well," he replied, giving back the same respect she had. She took the cot next to his.

The next squad mates showed up as a group. Two more females: Aliva Victus (19) and Intera Levisian (18). Two males: Nihlus Kryik (21) and Koris Reventus (21). They each greeted one another and quickly settled in. All six were instant friends and warmed up to one another quickly.

It made his life as a squad leader incredibly easy because his team worked like a perfectly crafted mechanical timekeeper. The lack of jealousy and hard feelings about status and age tightened their operation to the highest degree of efficiency and lethality.

They were one being with six bodily manifestations. They slept in the same room, woke up at the same time, ate all their meals together, trained together, and blew off steam together. In just two days Garrus felt like he had known his new squad mates for years and years.

They were given their first assignment three days in. Perfect timing. Infiltrate a pirate cruiser, rescue some important hostages, get out with no casualties. Easy.

It was mostly easy.

Levisian saved Reventus' life as he protected the hostages in the midst of a firefight. She had, in a display of superior weapons training, put thirty shots downrange into thirty different targets and killed all thirty. The way they looked at each other after that experience was one of instant recognition.

All hostages were returned safely; zero casualties.

Their success was celebrated back at base with sparring and sex. Levisian and Reventus had already developed a much-more-than-friends thing and it came as no surprise when Garrus walked in to sleep and found Reventus ramming Levisian against the headboard. They ignored each other out of respect rather than shame, and Garrus went to sleep while they continued their heated love-making. The pair slowed and quieted down to give him an easier time, but did not stop.

He was happy for them; relationships forged in Black Ops were the most successful among all Turian relationships. Devotion, strength, self-control, loyalty, teamwork; everything required for a long-lasting relationship was drilled into their conscious mechanics. He fully expected to attend their bonding ceremony years down the road.

They were still going when the rest of the squad came in and crashed. Garrus was having trouble falling asleep for a completely different reason however. He was worried about Shepard. He had felt her inner conflict when they had separated nearly a week previously, and knew with certainty that she had not been okay or suited for the level of work Anderson demanded.

Humans were not so easy to understand the life of another or overlook the flaws of another. She was amongst likely unforgiving and unrelenting competition there. The thought of her suffering turned his bones to ice.

Garrus woke up with the completely disrobed body of Aliva Victus curled up against his. Garrus tried to remember when and what exactly had happened that had caused them to end up like this. He looked over and spotted Levisian and Reventus wrapped around each other, and it appeared that Castus and Kryik had blown off steam and had not bothered to separate since. Victus must have wanted at least a warm body to help her sleep.

Her eyes opened slowly.

"Good morning, Vakarian. I thank you for helping me to fall asleep, too cold in these cots and no spare blankets," she murmured still tired but getting up to move back to her cot, "sorry if you wanted some stress relief, but I'm already taken," she clarified. Garrus relaxed and let her up, and did not so much as flinch when her narrow little waist and wide hips accidentally brushed against his. He agreed; it was extremely cold where they were.

"Of course, I'm taken as well," Garrus replied rising. He could happily oblige if she wanted to sleep in his cot for warmth, and was wholly reassured that she would never take advantage of him for the same reason he would never take advantage of her.

The rest woke up one after another. Castus quietly thanked Kryik for the sex and the warmth. Levisian and Reventus stayed right where they were and pressed their foreheads against each other's.

"Alright we have another assignment," Garrus announced with authority as if he were talking to his already armored up and ready squad, "shipping out in three days, journey for another three, and arrival at the end of the sixth. We've been put on recon, which almost always leads to a full-blown infiltration. Details have been forwarded to your omni-tools. This is not going to pretty,"

"Sir!" they chorused from various states of undress.

"Like we always say," Garrus began and his squad finished along with him, "expect the worst, plan for the worst, and hope for the worst so everything goes according to plan."

* * *

Shepard remembered telling everyone back at home that hard work and school would take her mind off of her family's death. That had been an overly optimistic prediction that was clearly erroneous. She felt extremely isolated at Anderson with no one there she knew.

Her roommate, Miranda Lawson, was a total bitch who considered herself superior to everyone else. The worst part was that it was mostly justified. She was not, however, close to Shepard's level of achievement. Shepard of course, said nothing about that because she refused to stoop to such low levels to gloat.

Shepard ignored or pretended to listen to her when she talked most of the time and they mostly got along without really being close friends. Lawson had grudgingly accepted that Shepard was better than she was at some point and therefore did not push her. They did not really speak to each other inside their dorm room except some very basic operational things. Both kept their belongings organized and their spaces clean. They did not interfere with each other.

Lawson did not come back to sleep often, she preferred the beds of her countless suitors who knew that Shepard outclassed them.

But soon enough that began to change. A week in she was performing below her expectations. Both her instructors and Shepard were confused and irritated with her lackluster performance. The isolation of being in a new location with no one to talk to and no one to support her was setting in heavily and her mind was feeling the effects of the intense depression that Garrus had simply postponed, not actually relieved.

Two weeks in to Academy and she began to crash. Her grades failed no matter how much she worked to improve them, her combat and CQC dropped off, and her emotions returned. She longed for her family or Garrus to talk to but they were dead or unreachable. She tried conversion with his parents but they only reminded her of the dead ones.

It did not help that almost everyone at Anderson was a stuck up snob like Lawson who managed to keep the same stuck up snob friends. There were the one or two that Shepard had become acquainted with who were much more personable, but they always seemed to have something going on.

Her instructors noticed that she was not herself and began looking in to the possible causes of her problems. No one had been told about her family. Shepard lasted a semester before everything finally fell apart.

"Shepard," an Australian accent commanded, "you're going to miss your classes if you don't get up. Shepard?"

Lawson sounded nervous now. Her roommate was currently lying on the bed staring upwards at nothing. Lawson waved a hand in front of her face and there was no response. She was really on edge now; Lawson closed her eyelids so her eyes would not dry out, and the checked her heart rate and breathing. Both were present but weak and declining.

Probably one of the crazier ones had attempted to slip something into her drink but Shepard had gotten out before anything could happen. She began to panic when the vital monitor on her omni-tool registered a drop. If Shepard was not put into the hospital soon she would have a dead body on her hands. Shepard was one of the few who actually deserved to be here. She called the paramedics.

Despite the difficulty of admitting it to herself, Lawson would feel extremely guilty if she let one of her fellow classmates die because she was too smug to consider the importance of another's life.

Three minutes later Shepard was placed on a stretcher and hauled off to the hospital.


	8. Irreversible

Does this move the plot anywhere, or am I spinning my wheels?

* * *

Garrus Vakarian, Taera Castus, Nihlus Kryik, Intera Levisian, Koris Reventus, and Aliva Victus were quickly the most highly sought-after Black Ops squad after just under a month, having completed four missions faster and far cleaner than anyone expected. Somewhere along the line Kryik and Castus hooked up became an item.

The openness and complete lack of embarrassment around one another made some of the longer trips requiring that they camp out overnight far easier because they did not need to pack more than three sleeping bags and mats. Their tent could also be far smaller and as a group they left a smaller footprint at each campsite. And there was never a problem with warmth because the space would heat up plenty as two pairs of Turians went at it in the same small space.

Garrus and Victus became close friends from night after night of sharing a cot. Both had begun to feel the effects of separation from their dearest ones but remained abstinent, fully committed to their partners. Inevitably they found themselves dosing off, naked and warmed by another, softly conversing about who it was they were looking forward to going back to when they were awarded with shore leave. If this had been any other setting, Garrus would never have spoken, but he did.

"Her name is Ada Shepard," he confessed.

"Sounds human," Victus replied intrigued.

"She is."

"Mmm, she must be the most amazing human ever if she captivates your attention, Vakarian," she observed with no hint of malice or judgment, "and you don't as much as flinch if I do something like this," Victus proved her point by grinding her hips lustfully against his, making a point to graze her slit against his. Nothing happened to either of them. Garrus rumbled a chuckle,

"Neither do you. Now don't get me wrong Victus, if you or I weren't taken, I wouldn't hesitate to ram you into tomorrow; you're quite beautiful if that counts for anything. But you have no idea; I've known her for years and she's only gotten more beautiful, to me at least, both in body and spirit. It's made me lose my senses to everyone else. I wish she knew, but I'm sure she doesn't want me the way I want her."

Victus' breath caught in her throat.

"I'm so sorry. Years you say? Spirits, Garrus. That's _really _bad for you."

"Nothing I can do but hope."

Victus felt his pain because his entire squad felt his pain. She nuzzled his neck, a gesture of affection from one intimate friend to another.

"How about you Victus? Don't think I get to confess my deepest darkest secret without yours in return."

"I've never told anyone either," she finally said, "I don't think our families would particularly like our seeing each other. I mean, I'm a Victus; everyone expects me to pin down someone like you. It seems we have something in common, you know taken outside of our species, because I've been together with this Drell for two years now. Thane Krios."

"Sounds like the walking definition of what humans call 'tall, dark, and handsome,'"

Victus nodded and explained.

"He's two years older than me; two years ago during Black Ops training I was attacked on a shore leave, overwhelmed by a group of completely sober turians from basic who were looking for a quick fuck. There were ten, and they were quite talented at hand-to-hand. I downed five before this Drell shows up out of nowhere and the rest go down faster than I can even blink. From there it went exactly like Reventus and Levisian. Of course, he doesn't pack Turian _heat_, but that doesn't stop me from loving him just the same."

"I'm happy for you. Healthier that it's not a sex-based relationship."

There was silence for a few moments before Victus continued, her face against his neck.

"You're a virgin still aren't you? Mmm…"

"And proud. I'm not going to cheat on her now am I?"

"But if she's 'cheating' on you?"

Garrus froze before continuing.

"She and I are very close friends, and we've stayed close since we were very young too. If she'd ever been in a relationship, I'd know. I trust her too much to keep something like that under wraps, know her well enough that she couldn't hide something like that without me picking it up, and right now I think the last thing she wants is a relationship."

"Why not?"

"Did you hear about the _SSV Starcutter_?"

Victus tensed, sensing where this was going fast. Garrus explained and she was practically trembling by the time he finished. He did not tell her about his nightmare; he would take that with him to the grave or to Shepard if he ever won her heart.

Garrus and Victus were occasionally joined by the others in their conversations, and it only tightened the squad dynamic both on and off the battlefield. Garrus had looked at the way other squads held themselves around their leader and it was clear that everything was strict and orthodox. They were all nervous to do something out of line because the situation demanded it.

Not in his squad.

This dynamic was the lifeline in the most difficult mission ever handed out to a Black Ops squad. Age be damned, they were the best of the best. They were to conduct a full recon, search and destroy of a human terrorist cell located on an obscure unnamed planet in the terminus systems. The only information known about them was that they existed and that they likely possessed dangerous information.

Garrus and his squad packed their things for a mission that they guessed would take a month. It would be their most challenging yet; but Garrus knew they would all return. Exhausted, injured, battered, maybe, but alive.

* * *

Ada Shepard woke up in a hospital bed, wholly confused but tired beyond measure.

"She's waking," some voice told another.

"Oh thank God."

Shepard made some noise.

"What?" was all she said.

"Your roommate called us in because you had entered into a coma."

"A coma?" That sounded completely wrong to Shepard. She should be dead; she had already accepted it.

"You were about ready to die on us Shepard. We have determined the cause of this incident as clinical melancholia. The deaths of your family are bottled up inside you and fester like an open wound. You finally crashed. You have been comatose for a little over two days. That is extremely unhealthy Shepard."

That sounded about right to Shepard, but it was still shocking. She did not _want_ to be alive anymore.

"So what does that mean?"

"It means that we're granting you two and half months of recovery leave before you are allowed back to Anderson. You are to see a therapist about your trauma. We will re-admit you once you have obtained documentation from a professional that you have recovered. I apologize for being blunt with you. Anderson Academy is proud to have you Shepard, we know you can perform better than you are right now and we are giving you a second chance. Losing as much as you had is not easy for anyone."

Shepard sighed. She could not remember the previous few days.

"One of your legal guardians-"

"Get out of my way!" Shepard heard as the lab coat talking to her was shoved to one side. Aevia Vakarian swept across the room.

"Ada! Oh Spirits little one, I flew here as quickly as I heard," her Turian "surrogate mother" crushed her into an embrace and pressed a mandible against her cheek.

"Dear Spirits it was hard to get clearance to come to Earth," she muttered angrily, "Why didn't you say anything before you left?" she turned a little more frustrated and concerned now.

"I didn't think it would get this bad," Shepard half-lied, still speaking softly.

"Neither did I," Aevia muttered, "I'm going to take you home to Concordia. They told me I had to find you a therapist," Shepard heard the disgust she put behind the word, "but I'm going to talk with Avarus and Solana about that."

"Thank you," Shepard replied, still reeling from the crash. She figured the downtime would really help.

"Alright you quacks, when does she get to leave?"

Shepard suppressed a chuckle at Aevia's commanding and blunt tone. Solana and Garrus got their snappy wit and sarcastic senses of humor from her.

"She is clear as of right now," the doctor replied unfazed, "All important information has been forwarded to your and your husband's omni-tools."

"Thank you sir," Aevia replied, showing that she was still capable of giving gratitude where it was due. Turning to Ada she spoke.

"Shall we?"

Shepard nodded, "I should probably grab some of my things."

"We'll stop by your room on the way to the spaceport."

Shepard ignored the sidelong glances that some of her former classmates shot her, grabbed some of her things without having to bump into Lawson, and met Aevia back at the skycar. She was also receiving some strange and less-than-appropriate glances; Aevia was probably the only and first Turian on earth since the accords. Shepard could tell she was enjoying scaring the daylights out of passersby who stared for too long. Soon enough they were on first class priority secure transport back to Concordia. Sometimes that wealth came in handy.

Aevia paid close attention to Shepard on the cruiser. If Shepard went under Aevia would personally rush her to the onboard medic. Humans were far too slow to keep up with her. She did not let Shepard out of her sight and did her best to disguise the hovering with conversation. She was the only Turian on board but that did not deter her from staying beside Shepard whenever she wanted to walk around the ship or work out.

They arrived back at the Vakarian residence five days later.

* * *

Garrus and Levisian, the top marksmen of the squad, had performed reconnaissance and gathered intel for three days at different locations. This terrorist cell, _Terra Nova_ as it was called by the humans who were in charge, was currently alight with activity as they seemed to be gearing up for something. The two monitored inward and outward going transmissions and craft; tagging each and every one so the four back at camp could background check and cross-examine them.

On the fourth day they found out exactly what they did not want to hear: _Terra Nova_ had agents, moles, among C-Sec, the council's staff, and almost every alien government. They were going to use them to try and assassinate the councilors to force one of their own down the Council's throat. That was not doing a good deed for all of humanity, that was actually ruining any chances humanity would ever get at the council. And _Terra Nova _must not have been paying attention, because there were already plans for a human councilor in one or two years.

Unless, of course, _Terra Nova, _wanted to guarantee that a xenophobic councilor be in power rather than a tolerant one.

They also wanted to remove all order from the current governments, _including the Terran Democracy_.

Once they knew what to look for, Garrus brought Levisian, Reventus, Kryik, and Castus with him while Victus, their savant analyst, stayed behind to monitor transmissions. The group of five monitored activity, patterns, and structure closely for an entire week before attempting to formulate a plan. They tracked individuals, their weapons, vehicles, cameras, doors, windows, vents, anything that could provide an entry point or provide an obstacle.

They'd finally found some repetition and took a day to check their gear before moving on to a forming a plan of attack. They had to get in and get out before anyone had time to scream and then probably stick around for a while and take down any of the straggling transport craft as they flew in with supplies and people.

They took three days with the plan, forging in, polishing it, galvanizing it into a palpable and unbreakable object with which they could attack.

Finally after nearly two weeks of careful observation and planning, they moved in for the kill.

* * *

Vayelen had been right, because Val had eaten entire plate of what he had set down in front of her. It smelled good, tasted good, and left her sated.

The thing looked and tasted like a pancake, but because Val promised herself to start associating everything with local dishes, she asked for the name.

"It's called a _Ve'sen_, staple… breakfast plate. The _Vir'sen_ tree sap gives the sauce its name and flavor," which tasted like maple syrup. So, basically he had just made her the most delicious and exotic tasting pancakes known to her. Val was quickly learning to be satisfied with the food here, because it seemed consistently better than what she had back at home. There were a few exceptions, but she found herself associating these new sensory inputs with the word home more than anything else. Her condition had already begun to affect her thoughts and memories.

Val tried not to tear up thinking that a few years from now she would fully consider this place her home, and Concordia would be some distant planet on which she once lived. That was her curse and her blessing.

"Good?"

"Very. I'm surprised that I've enjoyed everything this much. Even moving across different cultures of human food from can be a shock."

"_Hum'an?_"

It sounded so different yet so similar when he pronounced it.

"The name of our species in English."

"Ah, yes, good to know. Different cultures with our species as well."

"I could tell. When we came in I noticed the varied skin and eye colors of your… staff."

"Right. So is it the same with _hum'ans_ then? Skin color, eye color…"

"It is."

Oracle remembered seeing some of the humans the pictures and videos with different skin and eye tones but, for whatever reason, had thought little of it until now. He would wait until he had a larger vocabulary to elaborate on the Sicarian evolution process which he though she should know. He also wanted to hear about the background of _hum'ans_ without letting information go over his head. For now he tried to stick to more conversational and light-hearted topics.

Her mind was still a mess and he could tell. It would take her a long time to recover from what she had seen, and he expected to wake her from more nightmares.

"So, what do you learn first?"

He swore on his subvocals; he probably sounded like an idiot to her.

"Well, if I'm going to write a program that can emulate… what is the name of your species?"

"_Sicari'an_"

"Sicarian subharmonics, then I need to know some anatomy. If you would be so kind as to let me have access to… medical charts, holograms, anything really."

"Of course."

Val noticed that Vayelen's accent had become slightly thinner since two days ago. And while he could not speak English with all of the tenses there, he could definitely understand everything she said even when she muttered or spoke quickly.

He got up from his place, picked up hers faster than she could offer any help, and walked into the kitchen to deposit the dishes.

Val and Vayelen found themselves back in her room at the shoreline of a sea of knowledge that would turn Val from a human into a Sicarian. Vayelen apparently had an exact duplicate of her omni-tool's software on his far superior one, which he used to communicate with hers.

"Not fast enough," he muttered with irritation in his own tongue.

"What?"

"I get you a _Sicari'an _holotool," he had already ordered one for her, but until then they would have to postpone her plans to modify the translator. The individual files on his holotool, were each larger than the space contained by all the data on her omni-tool.

They spoke about other things.

"Can you tell about yourself? I am interested in your background."

Val smiled, hoping that she would not break down over the memories of her family. Vayelen seemed to read her thoughts.

"Sorry; If you feel too much about you family, then you do not have to speak about them,"

The admission alone reassured her. She briefly wondered if he would always be this permissive and cautious around her. Val shook her head.

"No, I can manage. This is important for us."

Val generated a mental list of things she felt were important for him to know just as they passed the time. Val told him about what kind of world she was thrust into at birth, her neural condition, her unusual life because of it. She told him about her mother and father's lives and their involvement in the First Contact Conflict. She told him she would elaborate on the Conflict later and continued to tell him about her education, her interests, affinities, what she perceived as her own personality.

Oracle listened to her talk about herself and tried to mentally document everything to the best of his ability with his limited vocabulary. That, and he was trying not to get lost in the way her voice sounded like singing even when she was just talking. He had to reel himself in once he noticed that he been dumping feelings of love and comfort into his superconscious. He knew she could not sense it, but did not want to stir his Agents or parents about the attraction he so desired.

Val had managed to confirm that she was fifteen at some point during the recount and he had shuddered again, reminded of her young age and how she was being forced through all of this. Listening to her speak so much was also giving him more practice listening to the language.

He had been extremely interested in this "First Contact Conflict" when she had mentioned it, but had only received a promise for more information later. He had twitched in annoyance, but he would have to get used to listening to someone else telling him what he could and could not have access to. It probably helped that even if he tried, he could not imagine being angry with her for any reason. He could run thousands of scenarios in his head, none of which he found the possibility.

He would have encouraged her to talk some more but she was dosing off. Humans seemed to need a little more sleep than Sicarians by about two or three hours and he was not about to deprive her; even if she was probably going to enter into another nightmare.

Just as she always did when she was tired she opened her mouth and moaned softly on the exhale. It had taken him a while to figure out that it was not a sexual gesture to them.

"Should I stay?" he asked.

"Just give a few minutes to get ready for bed," she responded quietly, the sleep heavy on her voice. He nodded and exited her room.

Val had still not gotten used to the fact that the toilet worked the way it did but it was undeniably extremely convenient because of how fast it was. If and when she returned home, going to the bathroom would certainly become a nuisance on standard toilets.

She wondered why, if they had this magical technology to remove all the… need to go, they did not use it for the shower or the sink. Val had figured out what a few of the others of the myriad settings on the shower controls did; there was one to dim the lights, another to change their color, another to change the color of the water. Holy shit. She did quite like the implications of that.

Val scrubbed herself down with the Sicarian "shampoo" and "body wash," both of which she had to ask Vayelen about. She brushed her teeth then slipped into her nightwear. Finally she arrived at the bed and slipped under the blanket.

Vayelen entered without having to be asked and sat down silently on the couch. He dimmed the lights to black and the room was plunged into the void of night. The only light cast was the warmth from his fiery orange eyes which outlined only a few features on his face.

Lavender and citrus.

No.

Vayelen.

"Lights guide you," he murmured as he felt her brain activity drop off and her heart rate slow.

* * *

Val opened her eyes a few seconds after closing them and something immediately felt off. Vayelen was no longer in the room which seemed odd because he was clearly not one to leave her like that after promising his presence. She sat up and looked around for a moment; the room was exactly the same as it had been when she went to sleep, so she was not dreaming. She had convinced herself that if she woke up at home, it would be a dream. There was no logical connect between the two places.

So she knew she was awake.

She got out of bed, thirsty, and headed to the bathroom in which she had cups for the tap water. She looked everywhere but the mirror as she reached for the cup and held it under the VI-controlled faucet, which knew to fill the thing up to three quarters and then stop. She gulped down the water in one swig and caught sight of herself in the mirror.

She was shocked, but she managed to keep her mouth shut and her wits about her as she stared into the mirror. Val even moved around a little to make sure it was not a trick. Her irises were rimmed with a bioluminescent ring, the same color, but it was anything but synthetic. The ring blended with the grooves and cracks of her iris and looked like it had developed there on its own.

Then one by one, the same striking blue colored light began to ignite on her skin like it was tearing through from the inside. Val shed her shirt and saw that the intricate markings covered her neck and the lengths of her arms. She stared at them; they were really quite beautiful. Val observed how the markings under her skin described her in a way that only her subconscious could make sense out of.

She narrowed her eyes, obscuring most of the rings around her irises. She looked… about five or six years older; fully developed breasts, slightly more muscular, shorter hair, and _way_ taller than before.

Some metallic rivets lay on her chest but they were too difficult to fully make out; for whatever reason the lights were still completely off.

Then she noticed in the mirror: fiery amber slits ignited just behind her, about 30 centimeters above hers, amidst the inky blackness and slowly grew in intensity. And one by one, intricate amber markings materialized in the space behind her. They started high, about a head's length above hers and crept lower.

And lower.

Defining a shape. To what they belonged she was currently attempting to figure out.

* * *

Val was squirming around in the bed again, and Oracle feared another nightmare so he woke her. Just like the previous night she sat bolt upright and stared at him for a while before realizing what was going on and where she was.

"Another nightmare?" he questioned softly in an attempt to keep the atmosphere reassuring and calm.

Val was staring into his amber eyes, knowing that the whole scene she had just gone through was the dream. She did not know how to answer that question; it was certainly disturbing in the sense that she looked like a crazy genetically modified freak and that something had been standing _awfully _close to her back.

"Not… no?"

"You say like a question. Are you unsure?"

"It was just… weird."

Val realized that she had just discussed a dream with him for the first time, even if it was a simple description. She checked herself and reeled in her self-control. Val was not ready to be this open with him yet, she did not know him well enough for that.

"In what way?"

"I was… I don't really understand it myself."

Val was not lying. Oracle could read it in her body language and confirm it with his superconscious. It was still better than a nightmare.

Val was just about to lie back down and hope for a dreamless sleep when she was nearly blinded by a flash of his eyes that traveled down his exposed skin all the way to his hands like a shockwave. She saw it, eidetic memory condemn her sanity, the image burned into her sight just now almost _exactly_ matched the markings from the dream.

Oracle had seen something for a few instants, a specter, no, an Archlight had briefly taken Val's place on the bed. The divine creature had looked exactly the same as she, but the irises were rimmed with the same blue as her eyes and hypodermal bioluminescent markings littered her skin. Along with the vision came the headache that he usually got when catching a glimpse of the future.

He cursed under his breath.

"What's wrong?" Val asked concerned as he clutched his head with both hands.

"Head pain," he replied as calmly as possible, "occasional. Brief."

Val relaxed once he finally released his head and leaned back against the couch.

Both blacked out promptly.

* * *

Garrus hauled Kryik onto their escape shuttle with one hand and fired off his sniper with the other. Victus was like a guardian spirit when it came to flying the craft and kept it steady enough for Garrus to land all his shots while still engaging their enemies.

_Expect the worst, plan for the worst, and hope for the worst so everything goes according to plan_.

That is exactly what had happened which was a good thing. Garrus had not expected any better in fact. Kryik had a bullet lodged in armor and was now leaking blood all over the floor while Castus treated him. Reventus had repaid the debt he owed Levisian when he had taken a shot in the side while her shields recharged. Victus had a few bruises where an enemy had landed a few hits with the butt of a rifle. Garrus had a gash on his waist, a chipped spur, and bruises covering his hands.

He could not have asked for any better.

Victus demolished the enemies in the hangar attempting to take them down before they escaped with their intel and their lives. She barely wasted any time blasting her way out and escaping into atmosphere from which they were picked up by a designated Black Ops stealth craft.

Not that it would matter, because once they were in the atmosphere they detonated the sub-nuclear fusion bomb they had planted to wipe all possible recovery of the cell from existence.

Garrus deactivated his weaponry and leaned back against the wall of the battered craft as it was guided into the hangar of the cruiser.

"Castus!"

"He's stable. The projectile has been removed and the wound closed."

"Check!"

Each squad mate that could commed in and reported their injuries one more time. There was a period of silence before Levisian and Reventus limped over and took seats on either side of him and rested their back against the wall.

"Can you believe it?" Reventus asked.

"I'll believe anything after what we've just been through," Garrus replied, "Will Kryik be able to walk by the time we reach debriefing?"

"Yes sir," he said finally coming to.

"Show me."

Kryik stood shakily and braced himself against the wall. Garrus watched his once weak vitals climb. The squad was giving him their strength, speeding his physical and mental recovery. Castus was at his side and they embraced. Garrus got up and moved to the cockpit to sit with Victus, leaving the door open so they could still converse with the four in the back.

"We did it," Levisian said a little breathless from shock and exhaustion. Garrus could hear Reventus shift and knew they were currently huddled together. None of them had to speak to verify that they were a squad of record breakers, and likely the only squad of this caliber in existence. The way Garrus kept the dynamic was far different than most squad leaders' methods. Fraternization in Black Ops was looked down upon and relationship always had to be concealed for fear of service rejection.

No one would believe Garrus if he said that the reason his squad was so close was because he allowed his squad mates to speak openly, insubordinate, step out of line, have sex with each other in the same room at the same time, as well as sleep in the same cot with another. He would likely take his unorthodox but highly successful methods to the grave.

Garrus had seen things on the mission that he would rather forget; _Terra Nova_ was a cruel organization. He had expected to see experiments on other species, but only saw failed and ruined human projects. He remembered freezing up at one point because one of the poor young woman had looked very similar to his Shepard; same auburn hair, same color eyes, about the right height. Victus, remembering their discussion and sensing the problem quickly, had been quick to assure him that it was not her.

The ruined human pleaded and cried for him to end her. Garrus had finally caved in and obliged, his entire body and mind on fire with the insanity of her condition. The once beautiful body was almost completely synthetic, wires and cords tangled around her like constrictor snakes.

Garrus had not slept since then and already felt the nightmares edging in. He was glad for two more nights with his squad mates in whom he could find some relief, even if nonsexual, from such night demons.

They were greeted on the other side of the shuttle doors by their commander who, instead of demanding respect like usual, knelt and bowed before them, humble in the presence of such spirits of death. This was the first real contact they really achieved since the start of the mission aside from the pickup call.

"Vakarian, Castus, Kryik, Levisian, Reventus, Victus, I am proud and honored that your squad is part of my unit. The Black Ops Division command would like to speak with you."

"Yes ma'am," he simply replied, voice a little hoarse from shouting commands.

He walked slowly so that his squad mates could keep up; all of them would be present for whatever Division command had to say. They stopped by the med bay so that the medic could properly dress their wounds and put them on painkillers before they trudged off to the holodeck on which they would be addressed by Division, represented by a male Turian who spoke for the ring.

"Garrus Vakarian, you-"

"Excuse me, Division, but you _will_ address my squad when you speak," Garrus commanded and glared at Division for his rude ignorance. He appeared shocked for a second and then returned to normal after a moment of hesitation.

"Vakarian, Castus, Kryik, Levisian, Reventus, Victus, your squad has proven exceptional beyond expectation. Your work over the past few weeks involving the human terrorist cell _Terra Nova_ has kept the Council alive, the Citadel from falling to anarchy, and multiple planetary governments from falling apart. You have ceaselessly performed better than even the most veteran Black Ops units. Your squad is being promoted to Alfa Dexteras."

Garrus kneeled in respect of the name, his squad following suit. Alfa Dexteras was the designation of the pinnacle of combat prowess. Only the superior were allowed in, and it was one of the greatest honors in Turian society. With this promotion, the entire families of Vakarian, Castus, Kryik, Levisian, Reventus, and Victus were now on the highest tier.

Alfa Dexteras were even darker than Black Ops; akin to the Spectres; but they answered directly to the Primarch. They were outside of rules and regulations of the military and the hierarchy, and therefore they were never seen or heard from. They did not exist.

"The mission you have just completed puts you on their level and we have confidence that your squad will perform the impossible as it has consistently. Until then, you are awarded with indefinite leave until the Primarch contacts you for assembly. Two and half months of that time is guaranteed leave."

Garrus rose and stood taller with his squad.

"We are honored; we will not disappoint. Spirits guide you," all six spoke in unison.

They returned to their room in silence. Kryik, Castus, Levisian and Reventus spared him absolutely no time before they were naked and writhing around on the floor and against the wall, lost inside their respective mates. Garrus and Vicuts entered the sparring ring for a much more chaste stress relief session.

For two days.

Garrus barely recognized his squad mates or himself. Their bodies reflected what they had been through; strengthening and hardening into weapons. He hoped that Shepard would be able to see past his differences; but he could never go back to being the naïve and slightly arrogant-humorous Garrus she knew. What struck him the deepest was that in the slim chance that she did love him, it would be _that_ Garrus.

_Everyone_ had nightmares about the mission both nights. They were collectively glad to be able to have some downtime to recover from the trauma. The squad split up in pairs at the spaceport, each saying goodbye to one another as they headed off to their homes to introduce their mates to their families.

Garrus wished Victus good luck in her endeavors with her Drell boyfriend and then he was alone, waiting for his flight back to Concordia.

* * *

Shepard had threatened to drop on her once or twice since they returned home. Aevia needed something to be done about Shepard because she was not improving.

"Mom, getting Shep a therapist is only going to make things worse! Therapists don't work; they are complete strangers and they don't have any relation to the experience of the patient," Solana complained.

"Nonsense. Asari can relate because they can directly experience the emotions."

"Mom. They use sex to understand; that's unhealthy in its own."

"It's not sex Sol. They link up their mind with yours to experience your thoughts."

"They also do that to procreate. It's sex."

"Listen, I don't want Shepard to see a therapist either, any species, but she's _going to die_ if we don't do something!"

Avarus walked in.

"What's going on? I could smell the insubordination from across the house," he half-joked. Years of being around the Shepard family had toned down his strict demeanor, but his traditional upbringing and values were still around if only barely.

He had heard about Shepard's declining condition and of course had used his position in the hierarchy to book his mate on priority to Earth, which was the bureaucratic feat of the century. He assumed their conversation was about that but there was no way to be sure. His daughter and mate were both strong women, which was his code for stubborn. They often got into heated discussions about things they passionately agreed or disagreed on.

They agreed passionately about their aversion to therapists.

"Shepard," they said in unison.

"We've agreed that it's not what she needs, but we don't have any other options," Aevia informed.

"I haven't gotten a chance to speak about those yet," Solana interjected.

"Well," Avarus spoke as the mediator, "I am interested in what you have to offer Solana. Please, offer your options and we will consider them."

"What _I_ think she needs-"

They were interrupted by the door opening and a much-missed figure to accompany it.

"Garrus!" all three more or less said in unison.


	9. Beginning to Progress

I'm sorry if there isn't a lot of Garrus/Shepard going on, but there will be.

* * *

Val dressed in the recently obtained Sicarian clothing tailored to fit her. Oracle would have loved to tell her that she looked amazing in them, the asymmetrical lines of the clothing's fastens underscored her curves. The way her beige skin glowed in contrast to the navy and silver of the cloth would allure any Sicarian.

The clothing was quite comfortable and fit her form well. The cloth was soft and the metal bands that fastened together did not chafe against her skin like she thought they might. There were no holes in the shoulders for wings like standard garments. Vayelen must have ordered them to be modified out, but the metal rings where they would have been were left in the cloth. Val had turned in the mirror, noting how the clothing really underscored her developing curves.

Along with the fresh sets of her Sicarian-style clothing came a Sicarian holotool.

"Wow, Vayelen, thank you so much for all this," she could only muster, her shyness getting the better of her.

Val set the freshly minted Sicarian holotool down on the table next to her omnitool. Vayelen had created a link between the two for her and already created a copy of her omni-tool on the much needed improvement, which came loaded with all the files she would need to work on her program. A portion was in English, courtesy of Vayelen, but quite a lot remained in the strange but graceful Sicarian script.

He gave her the first Sicarian anatomy lesson about nothing more than the vocal structures, lending her medical diagrams of the upper torso. Val was surprised to find so many layers of subvocals. She was also shocked to learn that Sicarians could perfectly imitate any sound they heard from their environment. Vayelen demonstrated this characteristic by perfectly reproducing the sound of rain falling through the trees.

If she closed her eyes, then she could not tell the difference between the real thing and his recreation.

Suddenly his shoulder looked like a very comfortable place to rest her head and let the vibrations from his "_sonos_," as they called the complex bone that projected the sound, coarse through her. But she kept herself, and the urge left her system when he ceased the demonstration.

Val used the increased processing power of the Sicarian device to boost her omni-tool's ability to read and produce audio. The Turian translator had a normal vocal emulator and a single subharmonic emulator. Val added in placeholders to correspond with the three extras required: two additional subvocals and a supervocal channel.

Vayelen had been extremely helpful; everything she needed he retrieved or accomplished for her, sometimes without even asking. On multiple occasions she had been thirsty and he magically had a cold glass of water waiting for her. He had demonstrated sounds on all three subvocal levels, the vocal, and the supervocal so she had an idea of what her program would have to emulate. It should not have shocked her that he was a programming savant like she, and he could occasionally spot errors despite the language difference.

They had broken for lunch, and Val eagerly awaited the next culture shock. This new setting had catalyzed her openness to try new things because it was a necessity. She followed him into the kitchen this time to watch him prepare their meal. Vayelen did his best to converse with her and inform her of some tidbit of Sicarian culture. She would always counter by giving him a fact about the galaxy she knew.

During lunch, potato pancakes became _Tor'vas_ in her head. She noted and relished the unique taste carefully, savoring each bite of the dish. A man who could cook…_ well_.

He sat with her quietly while she continued to shape her emulator. By the time she finally looked at the time she realized that she did not know how to read it, nor did she know how long the Sicarian day cycles were. She quickly got responses from Vayelen.

"30 hour days by _hum'an_ scale; right now is close to midnight," he supplied, "you should sleep."

Val noticed that it was the first time he actually commanded her to do anything; but he was justified in his command because she was tired and it seemed to be affecting her performance. She went through her routine of going to bed and ended up under the covers with Vayelen sitting in the room quietly reading his currently invisible holotool, which apparently he could see without special glasses or implants. There was still a lot she did not know about their biology, but she was eager to learn it.

Most of it. Maybe that would change in a few years.

Val woke up and it was morning. She waited for something fucked up to happen, but as she turned and noticed that Vayelen was still sitting there in the exactly same position, her doubts that this was a dream faded into reality. She breathed a sigh of relief that she had not had to go through another dream to confuse her or disturb her.

"Am I dreaming?" she asked him.

He was pensive for a moment before spouting something completely in Sicarian.

"You understand?"

"No?"

"Then you are not dreaming," his mandibles flared.

Val chuckled at his "joke" and seemed to agree that his test was good proof that she was indeed awake. She doubted her mind could have invented something so structured so quickly.

He left the room so she could change into a fresh set of her specially tailored Sicarian garments before he made her a different breakfast dish than the day before. Val memorized each addition carefully drawing similarities and connections between her experiences thus far.

She worked her emulator until lunch; Vayelen said he had business he had to attend to and left her there. He returned, however, around midday to bring her a small box with something appetizing in it. She guessed it would take her another day or so to finish her program, but she needed something else to do.

"Do you guys have a gym or somewhere I can work out?"

"A what?"

"Gymnasium: a building containing space and equipment for various physical activities" she informed him.

"Ah, yes. You probably… should change. I lead you there."

Val memorized her way around the massive house as he pointed out where some rooms were located on their way to this gymnasium of theirs.

Of course, they had weight machines that were similar to the ones that she was used to. And, inevitably, some that made no sense to her. Just because she spent most of her time reading and learning things, did _not_ mean that she let her form go. With her sister always around to keep her in line she had kept up a pretty tight routine. She looked around at the various familiar and alien machines before she found a familiar one and exercised.

She was out of shape; she promised herself to take at least some time every day to visit their quite pristine facilities.

After the first few days… home, Val found herself settling into a routine.

* * *

Garrus passed the threshold of his family's home to see them all discussing something fervently when they all turned and said his name in unison. He watched all three of their faces fall as they collectively realized that it was not Garrus. It sure as hell looked like Garrus: same regal Vakarian wings, same outwardly body, but the thing that inhabited it was different.

"Um…" his sister said as he stepped into the light. Spirits he looked like a monster. No one touched him.

Aevia finally overcame herself and wrapped her arms around him in an embrace. She grazed her mandible against his and swore to the Spirits that her nose was not playing tricks on her. She could smell the scent of a Turian female on him, confirming that he was indeed seeing someone at Black Ops. But he had not brought her with him like she would have expected. Or she was dead; and that was why he looked so stricken.

"Dear Spirits little one, what happened to you?"

Her son… thing fixed his gaze on her and she saw trauma and death. Her blood turned to ice in her veins.

"Difficult mission."

"Uh- Okay. Are you hungry? We're about to eat."

"I'm tired. I'm going to bed. Goodnight."

Then he left the room, hauling his duffle bag along at his side.

"What. The. Fuck," Solana said.

"Language,"

"Sorry mom. But seriously."

Avarus spoke, his voice a low growl.

"No one is left unaffected by Black Ops. I would know; I changed. I'm glad you did not know before then, love," he explained, "But he's changed for more than I did. I'd need to ask him about it."

* * *

Shepard was sitting on her bed, trying to take her mind of the past week or so by reading a novel and sketching on her holopad. For the most part it seemed to be distracting her, but she knew that it was not a distraction she required, but a cure.

She heard a commotion going on downstairs and then silence fell again as the voices returned to a normal volume. Shepard heard the door to Garrus' room open then shut and her heart seized. She denied that he could possibly be back from Black Ops so she just assumed that it was one of his family members who had gone in there to retrieve something. She sighed and continued her absent minded activity, now thinking about Garrus and hoping that he was okay.

The sound of water running from the shower in Garrus' room confused her. Everyone had personal showers, so there was no reason for any one of them to be using his in particular. Unless of course, that _was_ Garrus in there.

A knock on her door scared the shit out of her but she pulled herself together and responded. Avarus poked his head through the door.

"Food," he said in with the same humorous urgency that her father had always worn. Something was amiss, however; he looked like he had just seen a ghost.

"Alright," Shepard replied as she saved the things she was working on and followed him out the door. As she walked past the door to Garrus' room she heard the water shut off. That's _so_ weird, she thought to herself, that Solana or Aevia would use his shower.

"Hey Shep," Solana greeted her good-naturedly. Avarus disappeared into the kitchen bring out their dinner. With Aevia. So it was either Garrus in the shower, or some complete stranger. The latter certainly seemed the more likely explanation. No one had told her that Garrus was back yet; in fact, no one had told her who it was currently occupying Garrus' room.

Shepard had gotten used to reading her family into their dinners, only, there was this odd man out business with Garrus; who felt nothing like a brother to her because that would be extremely incest-y. Solana and Aevia bantered about things they had recently seen or heard about that bothered them, just like her mother and sister. Avarus sat and ate quietly as her father always had, sometimes supplying a comment or joke that reliably caused Shepard to choke on a laugh.

But when their meal was over she always felt like it was just another away from her real family, and that she was waiting to return home and find them there. Always waiting for them.

Shepard occasionally thought about how she would be required to move on from Garrus in order to continue the Shepard legacy as the only remainder of the family. Biologically that is. It caused her breath to freeze and her heart to stop when she dwelled on it; humans like her father or Garrus did not exist anymore. Shepard knew thousands of humans, of course, and even the most promising relationships always failed when they were broken by unfaithfulness or disagreement.

She envied how turians could commit to each other so well; and even though Aevia and Avarus had their "disagreements," Avarus could always satisfy Aevia with a compromise, or just simply agree with her side, as if affecting his own opinions to match.

She could imagine no better life partner or father to her children than Garrus, the notion of which usually ended up destroying her. Her mind had generated a connect between the deaths of her family members and Garrus' having to go off to Black Ops. She perceived it was as if they had _all_ died and left her.

Shepard went back to her quiet activities and quickly found her concentration elsewhere besides the depression, which was still cutting deeper. She had not shed enough tears to make up for all the loss and the pain; and the longer she held out now, the more would have to spill later.

Shepard sighed and got ready for bed, showering off and cleaning herself up before climbing under the covers.

* * *

Garrus heard the shower go on Shepard's room and stiffened. She was supposed to be at Anderson "continuing to kick everyone's ass," unless he was unaware of some kind of extended holiday. He knew she showered off before going to bed, and it was getting late, so he refrained from greeting her until he could actually get some rest.

He hoped that her nearby spirit would calm his turmoil. The journey back home had certainly taken its toll; he had nightmares every night and the absence of his usual support for such things made going back to sleep even more difficult.

And to make matters worse, it seemed that his _family_ barely recognized him. If Shepard shoved him away he would leave, he would find something too big to kill, and lose himself completely.

* * *

After four days, which put her a week into staying on the Sicarian planet, Val had come to the conclusion of her efforts with a program that would allow her to hear and speak Sicarian. She was aware that she could just take the English and use the vocalizations from there, but she wanted to return the favor that Vayelen had provided and commit to learning his language. It would make translation smoother because the phonemes of her vocals would already be correct, and the subvocal modifiers would be closer to accurate.

Now that only left actually learning the language.

She felt extraordinarily lucky that they actually had an alphabet, consisting of fifty symbols, with which to spell out the words; it would enable her to pronounce anything she read even if she did not understand what it meant. Twenty letters were dedicated to normal vocal pronunciation; twelve to the first level of subvocals, eight to the next, six to the final, and four to supervocals. Simple enough.

Vayelen saved her what would have been likely years of time by implementing a Sicarian speech recognition back so that it would be ready to recognize the standard vocals and append the necessary subvocals.

And, of course, some of it would have to be manual, but Val did not mind the extra effort. She purposefully chose the difficult path because it was also the most important one. She would never get anywhere if she could not exercise full control of the language. In addition to speaking, she wanted to be able to recognize all of the subvocal expressions for emotions and feeling, neither of which could simply be reproduced by a translator.

"Alright," she said, "here goes,"

Her hand hovered over the subharmonics panel.

"I'll see if I can say your name properly,"

Val spoke and her fingers tapped a few keys simultaneously, informing the software of desired the subvocals

"_Vael'en_,"

His lenses extended involuntarily and zoomed his vision way out, giving him an almost perfect 180 degree sweep of the room. His mind was reeling; now that her voice had properly generated subvocals it was like a chorus of Archlights crooning at once. They sung his name. Suddenly the prospect of having to teach her his language became an insurmountable task. How was he to keep his sanity when her true Sicarian voice sounded like _this_?

Val watched his eyes crank all the way up in intensity, his lenses adjusted in their sockets, and a shockwave of Amber light flowed along his sub-dermal markings. She raised her eyebrows in confusion. She did not know if she had offended him, or perhaps she had given him another headache. The last time she saw him act like that it was because of a headache.

"Sorry did I-"

"No," he stopped her, "just…"

Oracle forced himself to say it, just to gauge her reaction. He was going to be completely honest with her.

"Your voice with subvocals is _very_… beautiful," Val could see he was looking anywhere but her, completely embarrassed. She was not doing any better. Val imaged her skin was the same color as her sister's whenever Garrus as much as glanced in her direction.

"Quite distracting, please forgive," he added.

"Of course. How do we solve the problem then?"

"I get used to it, hopefully. If not, I do not know what."

Val, with her perverted eidetic memory, was stunned into silence as she heard him say over and over that her voice was beautiful. "_Very_" in fact. She supposed he would not mind if she kept to herself her thoughts about _his _voice. But they were only friends, and she knew that at some point years from now she would be back with her friends once again. Despite the opportunity she was being given to pursue his obvious attraction to her, Val did not want him as more than a friend.

Val had already picked up some Sicarian words and knew their basic grammar rules thanks to _Vael'en_ and her ever present ability to permanently retain and analyze new information. She found their language remarkably simple due to its coherence and structure, and how the subvocals were used to modify words without strictly changing the word.

Every word began without any part of speech attached to it. Just the vocalization itself was neither a verb, noun, adjective, etc… One level of subharmonics defined its part of speech, the next modified it even more, giving it tense and other unique attributes. The final added in sentiment and certain sentence types such as but not limited to imperatives or negatives. Supervocals were used for others such as questions or positives.

She tried again, this time asking a legitimate question, one that she had been wanting the answer for since she realized that she might secretly be attracted to him.

"_How many years have you",_ and then she hurriedly tacked on a _"?"_

Vayelen flinched again and seemed to recuperate before speaking again.

"In _Hum'an_ years or _Sicari'an_ years?"

"Human years please," Val was unaware that he knew their date and time system.

"Sixteen,"

_Oh that makes everything justifiable._ What? Vayelen seemed to run the entire planet and he was only _sixteen_?

"Really?"

"Would you like verification?"

"Um…" she just decided to believe him; she had noted how his subvocals were stressing seriousness and remained unwavering as he spoke in English, "I believe you."

Val found herself reeling. Sixteen. A year ahead of her. So this was like having a crush on the hot guy in the next grade up. Only this "hot guy" was a fucking bad-ass exotic semi-attractive super smart savant alien who ran a planet; who made sure she was comfortable as she settled into a complete culture shock, went out of his way to help her recover from the trauma of the crash just a week and half prior. He cared so deeply for her that Val was convinced he saw her as attractive.

Romantically attractive.

She could overcome her confusion as to the reasons why. He had only known her for a little over a week and a half; there was no way he found it within him to fall in love with her so fast. In addition, she was alien to him completely, inferior in every way except, perhaps, intellect, did not really speak his language.

At least she knew how Ada felt all the time around Garrus.

Lifelong friend? Or potential romantic pursuit?

Was she blind or something? Because you don't pass someone like that up.

Val went to bed thinking about whether or not she should _do_ anything about it.

* * *

Shepard _almost_ fell flat on her face when she saw Garrus sitting in the kitchen eating breakfast the next morning.

He looked up from his quiet meal alone and smiled.

"Hey Ada, long time no see," he greeted, trying to sound like he used to without the previous few months affecting his voice. He did not think that he could pull it off.

"Garrus," she breathed as a half question. Both were wondering what the other was doing there. Ada could not stop staring at him, however. He looked completely different than he did when they parted six months prior. He looked… worn, exhausted, but rugged and mature despite his age.

Above everything else, he looked disturbed.

"I suppose we're both wondering what the other is doing here, so I'll go first," he said reading the dynamic in the room quickly and eager to keep silence out of the picture, "I just got off a tough mission at Black Ops; I'm on leave for two and a half months. Probably longer. I would tell you more, but then I'd have to kill you," he made a lousy attempt at humor. Spirits he was so out of practice. He decided to come clean.

"Sorry if I'm a little off. I haven't really gotten the opportunity to practice my humor. The latest mission really was… difficult. I may not understand why you're here Ada, but I'm glad that you are. I could probably use the company of a ffriend."

Shepard noted the way his tongue caught on the "f" in friend like he had suddenly thought of something else.

"Um…" she was uncomfortable talking to him about her reasons for being there, knowing full well he would freak the fuck out.

But he had been honest. She would be as well.

"It was mistake to go off to Anderson. I ended up… comatose… and ending up with recovery leave and a diagnosis for clinical melancholia."

Garrus coughed.

"Spirits Ada," his eyes were wide, "A coma?" He sounded like he was in denial of a death, or like he thought she was joking.

"It was really more difficult that I convinced myself it was going to be. No one really wants to be your friend there; no one pretends to understand your pain."

Garrus could practically recite her words with her, remembering thinking the same thing during one of his nights talking with Victus. He had hoped that it would not actually be true and that his assumptions would be thrown in his face. He had hoped that Shepard did not do exactly what she did. But this was definitely worse than he could ever have expected. A coma. From depression. That sounded awfully close to suicide.

Aevia shuffled into the room and Garrus shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His mother did not simply shuffle unless she was around a very specific person and they did a very specific thing. Personally he could care less, Shepard however… humans did not like to know that their parents were having sex. For whatever reason it disturbed them.

She stiffened a little when she saw that they were conversing.

"Good morning you two," she said, the "sleepiness" still hanging around her aura among other things.

"Hi mom,"

"Ms. Vakarian,"

"Alright, very funny Ada, but seriously call be Aevia,"

"Force of habit," Shepard confessed.

"Have you already eaten," she asked.

"Yes," Garrus replied.

"No."

"I'll fix you something Ada," Aevia left into the kitchen.

Avarus walked in next.

"Good morning Ada, Garrus."

"Dad."

"Mr. Vakarian."

"That joke's getting _old_ Ada!" she heard Aevia call from the kitchen.

"Ada, I had originally set you up with an Asari therapist effective today, but Solana kicked my ass in a sparring match so I did what she said," he read the shocked expression on Shepard and his son's faces, "just kidding, sort of. She convinced me to cancel the appointments in favor of a more holistic manner of therapy. _Then _she kicked my ass in a sparring match; now that Garrus is back we can spend time with you to help you recover. You can spend time with your friends here on Concordia."

Shepard seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Aevia set some food down in front of her, brushed her fore head against her mate's, then said goodbye.

Garrus seized this golden opportunity, the only one he would ever get, his Black Ops experience of act efficiently and smoothly now and think hard on it later spouting through his mouth at full force. His mouth was working faster than his thoughts; he dove face first into a situation from which there could be no mistakes and no backing away. It was only every mission he had ever completed in Black Ops.

"I could take her to _Domsaltus_, some outdoor activities and fresh air couldn't hurt," Avarus' mandibles fluttered as he tried to figure out if his son was really taking the opportunity to remove Shepard from civilization so he could confess, or if he was seriously doing this as a gesture of platonic care.

He would just have to authorize this and find out in two months. Aevia had informed him that he was in a relationship with someone at Black Ops, he had dreamt about her, but the lack of evidence pointed Avarus nowhere. He was positive Aevia wanted him to be in a relationship just so that she could terrify the spurs off of some poor little female Turian who could never live up to expectation.

"Alright," Avarus said, a smirk playing across his features, "but you'll have to stock it."

"I know, we can do that on the way there. Plus I'll take the car, the fast one, if we need more things we can always just fly into Cavasta,"

_We_.

Avarus could pretty accurately guess the outcome of this endeavor. He refused to tell his mate, he wanted to see the look on her face when she found out.

Shepard was trying not to tremble beneath her clothing. Garrus Vakarian, her Turian, had just suggested that they go, just the two of them, to this place called _Domsaltus_ for "fresh air" and "outdoor activities." Her heart kept skipping beats as she imagined just the two of them, nighttime, probably bundled together for warmth as it was the middle of winter, in some hopefully quiet scenic location away from everything. She felt better already.

* * *

Val had not dreamt in a month and she was proud of it. Only, _Vael'en_ was there every night with his reassuring presence to guard her from those kinds of events. Eventually she convinced him to actually get some sleep and let her alone in her room. He had reluctantly agreed, fearing for her dreams.

In a month Val had learned enough Sicarian to hang on by a thread to conversation. _Vael'en_ seemed to have calmed down when she spoke. He started to converse with her more in Sicarian than English, weaning her away from it slowly. She feared losing her humanity, but then again, she was not expected to be a human on their planet whose name she could now properly pronounce: _Eval'en_.

Val learned more about Sicarian culture, finding that they were essentially Turians on steroids.

They were an extremely militaristic culture, and service was compulsory at the human equivalent age of sixteen. Education continued until they were twenty three at which point almost one hundred percent of Sicarians found mates and bonded.

They had a hierarchy system as well to determine who had control over whom. Throughout their lives, Sicarians were diligently tracked so that once they reached sixteen, they were placed on a percentile. This was a way of describing a structure that permitted for the easy assignment to an area of work based on various contributing factors.

Children were born high on the percentile scale; as infants they were given the same ranking as their parents. Every year the amount decreased until finally reaching zero at sixteen. From there, the number was judged by competence and aptitude.

Finding a mate and bonding raised the percentiles of both mates based on the difference between the two and some other factors like family sizes. Bonded Sicarians were granted privileges and were always paired, never leaving another's side. The word 'solitary' had an extreme stigma associated with it because Sicarians were inherently paired hunters and were much stronger when mated. Val had noticed that almost everything she had seen was designed to accommodate at least two beings.

Sicarians were given even more liberties when they had children, and rose even higher on the scale. Five years of leave relative to each birth were given so that they could properly spend time with their family, creating a strong and stable bond that would grant society a highly capable member.

_Vael'en_ was an exception; he was 101st: exempt from this system. Still, he had received specialized training for his entire life. He could legitimately place higher that every Sicarian currently on the planet if he were to take an aptitude test.

_Vael'en_ was quick to stress that being on the zero percentile was not a reason to look down on or disrespect a being. Those lower down on the scale were just as much deserving of respect as those at the top because they completed jobs that held the same weight as any other. Percentile was just an easy way to determine which Sicarians went where. Age was overlooked in their culture. If an infant could service Sicarian society more proficiently than an adult, then the infant would have a higher ranking.

So far that was all Val had learned from reading and conversing with _Vael'en_. He was clearly refraining from speaking about more complex or… _intimate_ concepts until he had a better grasp of her culture and her language. He clearly did not want to offend her in any way or disturb her.

For this reason Val knew nothing about Sicarian evolution, the finer points of their culture, anatomy, their technologies, sciences, and their history. But she patiently waited, knowing that the more she did not know meant the more time spent learning about it later. Val like spending time with _Vael'en_; he had not changed in the slightest around her, remaining courteous and gentle-natured in her presence, always managing to predict her requests and intercept them before she ever had to ask.

What was worse: his features had grown more attractive to her, and simply knowing more about him gave her a better image of his personality and his character traits beyond his physical appearance. He was slowly becoming the man that every woman could only ever dream of. Val held out, keeping him in the friend zone. She still refused to pursue this alien when there was the possibility that she would return home and have the opportunity to pursue a human being.

_Vael'en_ could not give her a full life.

Oracle had taught all her knew how to teach her about Sicarians with his still limited English vocabulary. She remembered everything after the first time without having to repeat it, an amazing feat of intelligence. He knew it was unique to her, remembering that she had a neural condition that gave perfect accuracy to her mind's ability to retain information. She said herself that she was one in a billion.

Her grasp of Sicarian was really showing as well. He was able to hold a basic conversation with her even her if her grammar was a little off sometimes and her sentence structuring needed work. But he could understand her, and she even used subvocals correctly when her translator program could not always do it for her.

So now, to go with her beautiful form which had been honing down since she starting using their gym, he had some personality to associate with her. She always listened to what he had to say attentively, she never complained about anything, she made sure to show her gratitude, she was extremely sharp for her age by Sicarian comparison. Oracle could only describe her as perfect despite her superficially inferior differences.

Meanwhile his doctors had completed the second autopsy and rendered out an entire anatomical model of a male human. Oracle had been shocked to see that this particular human, by complete coincidence, exactly matched the older male from those picture with Val and her mother; this was her father. So he had ordered the autopsies of both her parents. He rubbed his crest.

He still had not told Val about the monument they were constructing because he wanted to be as close to her as possible when she rejected him for performing both autopsies without consent, and jacking into her mother's omni-tool so that he could learn her language. That way, he would have a higher chance of at least keeping them on level speaking terms.

"Val," he greeted her one morning, "Hungry?"

"_Of course_," she replied, subvocals to reflect eagerness and gratitude.

"I will make you something," just like he always did, "any requests?"

Val's knowledge of Sicarian food had greatly expanded thanks to his careful explanation of each plate she had been served. She requested a favorite of hers from the past few weeks to which he smiled and nodded.

Usually at this point he would leave to make whatever she asked of him and she would get dressed, but he paused at the doorway.

"My parents are going to be there. They would like to meet you," he spoke with an accent but his sentences had no problems anymore. He had almost mastered tenses, but he occasionally tripped up on the irregulars.

"_Am ready I?_"

"_Am I ready?"_ he supplied

"_Am I ready?"_ Val corrected her mistake.

"_I believe you are_. _They will give you their respect no matter what you do, but I know you will have no problems with courtesy_." He left out the bit where they would respect her because they thought he was courting her.

Val had understood most of that. But she still had to wait a little to figure out what he had said before replying.

"_Not at all_."

_Vael'en_ left the room to let her change and then walked with her to the personal dining room. Val had learned that the staff had five to themselves if they decided to meet up, or they could chose to eat in their rooms, which were fully stocked.

She and _Vael'en_ entered the dining room and were met with two additional pairs of glowing Sicarian eyes. His parents looked nearly as young as he, and nothing like him. _Vael'en_ had rocky grey and lighter camouflage strips with those unique fiery amber eyes. His father's scales were a deep forest green with lighter yellow-green strips, making it clear that he was from the forested colonies. His eyes were piercing lime-green. She noticed that unlike _Vael'en_, he had an illuminated crest, the same gemstone material as his eyes, beneath his fringe-armatures. Its color stood out because it was so different from that of his eyes.

His mother, if she could make any assumptions, was likely the definition of drop-dead overwhelmingly beautiful. Her scales were aqua, as if she had come straight from a tropical ocean. Her camouflage was ice-cyan. Her eyes were shockingly different from her skin color: crimson, like the color of human blood. They were the same color as her mate's crest. As a female, her fringes were far shorter, but her gemstone crest was far larger, splitting into five strips and running back her head like fringes. It was of the same lime green as her mate's eyes.

Val could somehow tell that _Vael'en_ was far more nervous than she was, likely fearing that his parents would not approve of her. Val bowed her head, a sign of respect in Sicarian culture, and greeted them in her most formal tone of voice.

"_It is an honor, Mr. and Ms. Nostrom_," she annunciated, careful to mind the subvocals.

Oracle froze and waited for a reaction. How could his parents possibly dislike an Archlight?


	10. Leaps and Bounds

Sorry for the delay; I had most of the chapter done and then had to leave for a while.

Just a note: English during Val and Oracle's sections will be italicized as it is the "minority" language

Thank you to the two reviewers Spyke1985 and Guest. Your support gives me impetus to continue the story.

* * *

Shepard had not asked any questions, she had simply walked up to her room and begun to pack. She did not _care_ where or what this place was, it was with Garrus. He could make anything tolerable. Shepard was lost in a delirium as she packed her things hastily into a duffel bag. This was really happening. Fuck therapy.

Two and a half months with Garrus, alone, even if she would not be able to take "full advantage" of him, would be like living a dream. A very restricted dream, but a dream no less. Maybe she was dreaming. Maybe she was really under another coma. But if this was her reward for being comatose then she refused to even try to wake up.

Shepard debated on whether or not to take her omni-tool. Technically she needed it for translation but she knew that if she brought the damned device she would be unable to ignore it, and end up reminding herself of her losses. Then again, she did kind of _need_ it for basic reasons like time keeping and translation of other things besides Garrus' perfect Turian voice. She strapped the device around her wrist.

She added in her hiking shoes which had been brought from her old home, some sparring clothing because it was inevitable, and gear for cold-weather. Shepard finished off by packing all of her personal hygiene supplies. Even though Garrus had said they would stop in Cavasta for supplies, which she knew was a small town pretty damn far outside of the city where they lived, she did not want to have to live through the embarrassment of spending money on them in front of his face.

Silence befell and gave Shepard some time to think. Garrus had just seemed so different to when she last saw him. She knew that he was not allowed to share mission details with her, but he was allowed to talk about what he was feeling. He had admitted that the mission was difficult and that he was clearly so much different than before.

Her vision swam; this Garrus was not her Garrus. She supposed _that_ one had been murdered by Black Ops. However, this new one seemed to have a firm grasp on the situation; This one was years beyond his age and had seen things that his superiors would consider nightmares. Shepard shuddered, remembering the look on his features when he said that the mission had been "difficult." She placed his reluctance to tell her about his afflictions with the fact they were likely far worse than he let on.

His admission to needing someone to lean on really only confirmed how bad it must have been because Garrus was always the sturdier of the two of them. She hoped that he had not witnessed any of his squad die like once before. A squad mate had been fatally wounded during a legitimate ambush on an off-world training site and medevac was not fast enough to save him. Shepard had been in the middle of her junior year when it happened. He'd been given a week of recovery leave. Garrus now looked happy in comparison to the post-incident Garrus.

Shepard hoped that she would have enough strength to be there for him because she sure as hell had not been there for herself.

* * *

Avarus Vakarian was staring blankly at the wall, past his son, past the wall. He was not sure whether to be extremely proud of his son or disown him. They had not gotten very far in their conversation. Garrus was _so_ not the one he remembered that even speaking became difficult. Everything he said to his son was shot down mid-flight. Garrus no longer spoke for the pleasure of speaking, but simply the utility of conveying information. It was like talking to a VI.

Garrus had stepped into his office, looking about ten years older than his father, and _glared_ at him. It was like Black Ops training all over again, only Avarus was the trainee.

"Hey Garrus, is there something you want to talk about?"

"As you know I've been given two and half months of recovery leave from the mission I completed with my squad. My leave will likely be longer, however, and I won't be returning to Black Ops," his voice was made of cold metal alloy.

To quote his daughter's eloquent expression of confusion:_ "What. The. Fuck."_

Avarus was shocked. Garrus' service had only been six months, which was far shorter than the requirement for an entire campaign before retirement. He had fully expected his son to carry through with his career in Black Ops like the dedicated Turian he was. Avarus told himself to contain his outburst because clearly his son had more to say.

"My squad has been given the honor of Alfa Dexteras,"

Avarus felt the breath knocked from his lungs. He might as well say goodbye to his son now; if that was what he could even call the Turian that stood before him. This was such an awkward role reversal. Avarus had seen shit during the First Contact Conflict, but Garrus had clearly seen worse. And Spirits he was only _eighteen_.

So Avarus found himself sufficiently shocked into submission, staring at nothing.

His son, thirty four years younger than he, was now the right hand of the Primarch: Alfa Dexteras. Garrus no longer legally belonged to the Vakarian family, he belonged to the Alfa Dexteras family. It meant that even if his own son, his life blood of whom he was so proud, took a mate, had children, or was killed, the rest of the family would _never_ know. He would not be able to present his son and prospective daughter-in-law with the Vakarian legacy crest, nor witness the birth or births of his grandchildren from him, nor be there to attend a funeral ceremony if his son was killed.

He remembered having high expectations for his son and pushing him when he was younger; his strict dynamic around his son was what he attributed to Garrus' success. But they both knew the consequences of joining Alfa Dexteras; Avarus did not think that he had pushed Garrus that hard; his son had always simply done the right thing on his own. His expectations had been modest if anything and Garrus never fell short. He was still staring blankly, trying to figure out what he had done to deserve this.

His son left the room and his life without saying goodbye. How was he going to tell Aevia or Solana that they had lost him: their Garrus; that he was _dead_?

* * *

Garrus knew his father was disappointed, but he would see how his status as Alfa Dexteras would honor the Vakarian family. He knew that Alfa Dexteras removed him from the family, but it was the only way he would be able to fully utilize his skills to protect. After what he had seen, he wanted to protect his loved ones from the fucked up galaxy. He wanted to protect Shepard from the fucked up galaxy.

He did not let his father's disappointment rub into his time dedicated to Shepard. She would never have to know about the inevitable restrictions and obligations. The less she knew about his life away from her the better for her recovery. The last thing she needed to hear was that she would never be able to find out that he died if he died. He did not want her to have to wait either.

Garrus did not _want_ to be around Shepard, he _needed_ to be around Shepard right now; her presence in itself was a catharsis and a medicine.

With his own duffel bag already packed with his gear, Garrus headed to Shepard's room and knocked.

"Yes?" she called from within.

"Are you ready to go?" he said with a friendly and upbeat tone of voice, despite the grave attitude he had worn just seconds before.

"Just finished packing. I think I got everything I'll need," she said opening the door.

"Yah no need to worry about your clothes, _Domsaltus_ has a few laundry machines. You can clean your stuff there when you run out."

That eased a little tension on her shoulders.

"Good."

"Also if you need new gear or anything, Cavasta has some good outlets for that kind of stuff."

"Please Garrus, I'm not going to spend your money just because my… I don't know, hiking boots are little worn," she grinned. He supplied a fake grin in response, trying his best to feel genuine emotions in place of emptiness.

"Hell, Ada, if you don't want to spend my money on yourself, then I'll do it myself. New hiking boots it is," he was smirking, finally.

"But I don't actually-"

"Too late! You said it and now I have this image in my mind of you trudging along a hiking path in agony because your footwear is inadequate. And we can't have that now can we," Garrus was now feeling quite wonderful, having found some of his old ability to make them both smile. He kicked up his voice to imitate hers,

"Oh Garrus!" he pressed the back of his hand to his forehead dramatically and feigned a swoon, "Why didn't I listen when you offered me adequate footwear?"

Shepard laughed. Garrus struggled to keep his knees from falling from beneath him at the sound. It was the first time she had laughed without the undertones of sadness from the loss of her family. What he would not give to lean in and kiss her now while the emotions were high. It would probably fix him as well.

"Alright, alright, hotshot, I see how it is. I don't actually need new hiking boots. That was just an example situation. Just don't be surprised when I ask for a new private island because my old one got a little worn out,"

"I'd get you a new planet if your old one got a little worn out. We should head out now so we get there around sundown, assuming we stop in Cavasta for dinner and some supplies."

"Alright."

Garrus reached over and picked up Shepard's heavy duffel bag with a long arm, hoisting it from the ground easily. The two walked to the garage and loaded the family's faster two-seater with the baggage. Garrus controlled the craft with the graceful but aggressive hands of a trained combat pilot towards their destination of Cavasta.

* * *

Tivas and Silis Nostrom stared at the creature before them, the one standing next to their son. She spoke without fear and a confident tone of voice; but she was speaking _in Sicarian_. Their son had informed them that she had been learning the language but they knew not what to expect from her. Oracle had told them that she had the voice of an Archlight, and indeed he was right.

Despite her completely alien appearance, they could see the Sicarian in her. Her beige curves had their own alluring qualities to them and her form under the custom-tailored Sicarian garments was clearly trim and athletic. She was not the conventional kind of beautiful, judged with wing size, fringe length, but her other features, slimmed-down limbs, smooth curves, supportive-looking waist, and proportional breasts all fit the definition of beautiful. Both could understand why their son was so madly in love with this creature, if just by appearance.

Even if she looked frail and squishy.

However, they wanted to know how her personality attracted him, because physical beauty was probably one of the last things to attract one Sicarain to another. They already knew that she was polite and extremely intelligent if she could write her own program to allow them to communicate, and use it properly around them.

Both she and their son appeared so nervous, which was the opposite of how they wanted both to act. They had previously promised themselves that they would not ask any questions about their relationship, because it was painfully obvious that she was out of it as of right then.

So they simply flared their mandibles in a smile and replied. Tivas spoke clearly so she would understand, but not slowly as if talking to a child. She was smart enough to be offended by that sort of behavior.

"Relax, little one. We appreciate the politeness, but that is not how we want to see you. We are already quite impressed with you and hope to include you with us. You will need to speak freely and openly, we will not judge you."

Oracle nearly collapsed and the alien paused for a moment to process what had been said.

"I regret it."

"No need to worry," Silis replied reassuringly, "Um… not to force you or anything, but a name would be nice. And the name of your species."

The creature scowled and then looked up.

"Please forgive, I forget completely. I call myself _Val Shepard_, my species calls itself _Human_."

They noted how she blended sounds together with her mouth that Sicarians did not; it was strange to hear so many of the phonemes projected from the mouth alone.

Tivas exchanged a look with his mate. _Val_ had an identical primary vocalization to the Sicarian word for honor, respect, loyalty, camaraderie. They really could not think of a better accidental half-name for her, as she appeared to demonstrate all of those qualities. She was already a Sicarian at heart, and currently their son was trying to court that part of her.

The rest would follow when that part took control and finally responded, but the time it would take was anywhere from the next week to the next few years. Tivas and Silis' bonding had gone about as fast as the average Sicarian; so they could not relate to what their son was going through and it hurt them.

But her species name, while just a complete and unfortunate coincidence… they ignored it; it could not have any correlation to her.

"My name is Tivas Nostrom, my mate, Silis Nostrom."

"It is an honor, Tivas and Silis Nostrom."

They were thoroughly impressed. According to their son she had only been practicing Sicarian for a little under two weeks. Despite an accent, her pronunciation of their names was completely correct.

"We can see that you are going through a difficult time right now; Loss of family is very challenging," Tivas spoke softly from experience. His mother had died prematurely and his father, too stricken to continue, followed soon after when his body shut down from lack of mate.

Val looked away from them in what he could feel was sadness. Silis bowed her head in respect for her losses.

"Well," Tivas interjected into the silence, "I believe Oracle wanted to prepare you breakfast. I shall accompany you, Oracle."

Val watched Tivas and his son leave into the kitchen, leaving her alone with hismate.

"You love her you don't you Oracle?"

"Was it not obvious?"

"I am not angry or disappointed with you, Oracle, even if you chose an animal we would respect your decision. But we can see what you see in her; she would make a good mate despite not being able to bear you a biological child. But this waiting for her is going to almost impossible. I regret to inform you that neither your mother or I can help you here. We have no experience with this type of attraction."

"I'm aware of that dad. I'm not worried."

"Whatever you say, Oracle," Tivas watched his son flinch. He did every time they called him that even thought that was his _name_. It reminded him of the disconnect from his family that was not entire his decision.

The two walked out a few minutes later with separate dishes for their… mates, as was customary.

They ate and held a very light discussion. Tivas and Silis wanted to make sure that Val was included in conversation. Oracle was stiff the entire time, wholly worried about his romantic pursuit around his parents. They had already told him that they were not going to judge her, but he was not letting go of that.

Or he was just trying to contain himself around her; Tivas remembered how Silis had been when he first introduced her to his family.

"It was wonderful to speak with you _Val_," Silis concluded at the end of their meal, "Thank you for the meal love," she said to her mate, brushing her lips against mandibles.

"Good luck in your endeavors," Oracle told them, knowing that they were leaving for service later that day, and he would not be seeing them for a while.

"Thank you, Oracle," his parents bowed in respect to the leader of their planet and exited the room.

"That went well," Oracle commented in Sicarian.

"_I agree_," Val replied in English, "_I thought they were going to hate me or something,_"

"_Did you enjoy breakfast,_" he practiced his English.

"Very much so," she replied following suit.

"I have nothing on schedule for today, I accompany you in a workout? I prefer the company to none."

Um…

"_Alright,_" she said nervously, not particularly wanting to subject herself to a situation which might get uncomfortable.

Oracle regretted the suggestion the moment it had escaped his mouth. It was true that he could use the exercise, but Val's workout clothing showed off her skin like no other; He had not told her yet that she was extremely underdressed. Sicarian underclothes covered the entire torso, hiding all sets of anteriors. He had not said anything because he assumed that the skimpy clothing was appropriate in her culture.

He was already regretting his decision.

They found themselves in the personal gym dressed in their lighter clothing. Val was doing her best to not ogle at his form, which the very thin pants and torso cover did little to hide. She was staring intently at the odd looking protrusions around his legs and chest, wondering what the hell exactly those were, if anything, or if they were a part of his body.

Oracle was in a similar situation, keeping his focus everywhere but her almost completely bare chest and torso. He went over to one of the machines set his preference to a slightly lighter 450 kg and began a one-armed lift routine.

Val's maxes had been increasing every day she had been to the gym, her sister would have been proud, but when _Vael'en_ walked over, set up a 450 kg resistance and began to move the bar with _one arm_ she suddenly felt very weak and fragile. Val ticked her own weight up a few kilograms and continued, trying to not feel self-conscious or insecure.

Oracle sensed her insecurity; her mind was dumping it through her thin skull like a flood. He knew they would continue until they both finished their respective routines, but he was feeling guilty about this whole thing. He noticed that her weight was set quite a great deal lower than his; his knowledge of Human muscle tissues explained why. As much as he tried to communicate with his superconscious that he was not judging her, he could read her thoughts.

He set his weights lighter and lighter, but he actually wanted to get some exercise so he kept them as high as possible.

They continued in silence, Val becoming increasingly impressed and insecure about his strength versus hers. She got to witness the actual strength of his wings when he hooked his triple-jointed feet under a bar, set the resistance up at 750 kg and pulled himself up using just the armatures. Over and over. It did not even look difficult for him.

The two finished forty minutes later, Val's muscles were aching from the exertion. _Vael'en_ appeared to have a slightly amber tint to his smooth scales.

"Productive exercise?" He asked,

"_I suppose_," she replied, the control over the subvocals allowing her to betray her actual thoughts.

"_Val, I understand your species is different. Please do not anger yourself over difference,_" he soothed, hoping to calm her down. She was still disappointed with herself.

"I do not judge you Val," he tried but to avail. The only thing that would likely satisfy her would be achieving his level of strength.

Val knew she was not going to get anywhere by keeping to herself.

"_Sorry. I just feel so weak here,_"

"Your physical strength matters not _Val_," he replied, "you see: the mind is the weakest link; therefore if your physical strength reflected that of your mind, _Val_, you would move the stars,"

Oracle groaned after he said it; that had come out entirely too romantic. He desperately hoped she interpreted it as friendly encouragement rather than a proposal.

Val was trying to understand what it was he had just told her and convinced herself that she was misreading his tone of voice as romantic because she simply did not know enough about Sicarian subvocalizations to discern one from another.

Much to Oracle's luck, she did not catch his drift. Although at some point, when she looked back on this moment with her eidetic memory, she would realize it. It was only a matter of time before she learned about it, and yet another to remind her. The problem was, she exercised every day, which meant she would think about it every day at least once. He would wait to teach her about those two particular expressions for as long as possible.

He returned with her to their hallway at which they split to shower. Val always looked even more vibrant and beautiful after a shower; for whatever reason she used membrane cleanser on her hair and scaleshine on her skin which gave both an alluring sheen and a pleasant aroma that still had hers beneath.

Oracle was thinking on his father's words. He completely agreed; it was not Val's fault that she was stifling him, his body had made up its mind and now it was brutally reminding him. It would get worse, however, and he knew that he would find himself begging for mercy a few years down the road.

Sometimes he thought about the absurdity of it all; he should find her disgusting because of her "inferiorities" and "frailties" and "alien-ness," but he had yet to find any.

* * *

Garrus chatted Shepard up as he drove the skycar, finding his need for her reassuring presence greater than he thought. Black Ops had changed him; Shepard was the only one who could bring out the old Garrus still alive in him somewhere.

Every time she laughed he came alive a little more. Every smile was another wave of undeserved ecstasy. Spirits he needed this far more than he thought.

He was going to confess to her, either at the end of their trip or close to it, because if she rejected him Alfa Dexteras would be his escape and his grave. Shepard would never have to know, she could just move on from him and eventually forget about his existence. Unless she asked around and his parents told about his involvement in Alfa Dexteras, she would recover, she would move on, and she would finally be happy. Garrus would probably still be around to be happy for her, even if it would kill him inside.

Right now he was living for her and he would continue to hope that his confession in two months would magically cause her to realize her secret feelings for him, assuming she had any.

Shepard could feel his pain, but their light-hearted banter was bringing her best friend back. This whole trip was her chance to get him alone and confess, because she did not have much to lose. If he did not return her sentiments, at least he would know how to let her down gently or disguise his disgust with fake emotions to satisfy hers. Then he would go back to Black Ops and she would believe that he loved her. It would be a win-win assuming that he pulled that off. She knew he could if he tried. But then the question remained: would she believe him if he was _not_ acting?

They arrived in Cavasta at the end of the day, around dinner time, so Garrus drove them up to a small levo-dextro diner for a meal.

"So I haven't really thought to ask, but what exactly is _Domsaltus_?"

"It's an entire cabin made from hardened manure," he replied perfectly calm.

"Um… what did you just… really?"

"Absolutely not. We have a residence in the middle of an enormous forest and valley not too far from here; it was built back when the First Contact Conflict was just ending and Concordia was designated as a joint-planet. And while you're wondering, the house is made from alloys and glass. Nice and modern, but still fits into the environment."

"Sounds sexy."

"Mmm… Wait until you see the view."

"This better live up to expectation Vakarian. You're getting me all excited here."

"I promise, you will leave your breath at the door."

"How poetic."

"Guilty pleasure. So, ready to stuff your face?"

"You bet."

They received their food. Garrus growled and turned his head around.

"Excuse me you two," he said referring to a young human couple that was clearly making quiet and snarky remarks about them, "If you're going to talk about us like that, at least make it quiet enough that I can't hear every last insult and slur you throw. And yes, it is very much Tab A-Slot B, alright?"

Shepard held a hand up to her mouth to cover a laugh. Those two were shitting themselves, and honestly Shepard had not heard them talking at all.

"Tab A-Slot B, Garrus? What?"

"I mean, you could also just use the extranet. Rule 34 has been in effect ever since the invention of extranet hasn't it?"

"You've lost me."

"Don't worry about it."

"Shouldn't I?"

"Probably not."

"I just realized how hungry I am, good thing I ordered the grease mop."

"That's so attractive, Ada. Not to mention on topic."

They both laughed and began to eat when it arrived promptly.

Afterwards Garrus hauled her to a grocery store and ordered her to pick out some basic levo ingredients with which to cook. She had protested, saying that she did not know how but he had simply waved her off. Between them they purchased enough food to last about a month which amounted to quite a hefty sum. The elderly Turian cashier gave them an unreadable glance before spending the next ten minutes scanning everything. Garrus made a strange noise on his subharmonics that her translator passed up as nonsense and the cashier's mandibles fluttered a little before he returned to the arduous task at hand.

"The car won't fly with this much stuff in it Garrus."

"Yes it will."

"No."

"Yes. Now, help me load this up."

They barely fit the heaping pile of foodstuffs into the storage compartment of the coupe, but true to his word the coupe still flew.

"Are we there yet?"

"We just took off Ada. And if you're asking how long until we get there, I'm guessing it'll be another hour or so."

"Alright."

Ada yawned and then dropped like a rock. Garrus sighed, knowing that she would be asleep when they got to _Domsaltus_ and miss the sunset. He would likely have to carry her into the house along with all of the groceries on his own without waking her up and making an ass out of himself.

She was still snoring as the sky was in its last stages of crimson. The small but modern cabin was set in a clearing at the crest of a hill overlooking a beautiful and majestic valley surrounded by walls of mountains. A river flowed through the bottom of said canyon, supplied by a huge waterfall at one end, which dropped nearly a kilometer from peak to bottom.

Shepard would not get the chance to "leave her breath at the door" because she was too asleep. The coupe halted on the small parking pad just outside the auxiliary entrance and began unloading everything, beginning with Shepard and her belongings.

Garrus had defused bombs without breaking into shivers. He could take fire with a cool head like they were flies. He could laugh at the face of danger and mystery and make it work for him. But trying to figure out if he should wake up Shepard or simply carry her to the guest bedroom himself was the hardest task. Spirits he _wanted_ to, but the risk was too high. He had to maintain his cover until they were nearly done.

He made to pick up her carefully and immediately thought better of it.

"Ada," he soothed and shook her gently with a hand on her shoulder. Her eyes cracked open and looked at him, "We are there yet."

She groaned, tired, and tried to leave the car. Garrus helped her by wrapping an arm around her waist and supporting her. He guided her into the moderately-sized cabin and the bedroom which would be hers for the next two and half months.

"Why am I so tired Garrus?"

He thought for a moment, questioning whether or not she would even place value to his response in her almost drunken state.

"You've begun, Ada, to drop your burdens. Because here, you don't have any; you only have the present moments and raw emotions."

"Mmmm…" then she was out again, lying peacefully on the bed. Garrus had not intended for the words to come out so prophetically, but he was telling the truth. He was simply stating everything that he was experiencing.

Garrus left her there so she could figure out on her own that she was still fully-clothed and lying on the Turian bed without actually being under the blanket. He returned for the groceries and packed those away quickly before they could spoil any further. Finally he finished by locking the coupe and bringing his own luggage.

With the entire cabin locked up he showered then crashed onto the bed and tried to fall asleep. Garrus knew what it felt like to have a body pressed against his whilst under the covers of a bed. Victus was certainly a comfortable pillow. But his plates loosened when he imaged Shepard in her place, lying with her soft but powerful naked back against his chest.

He growled in frustration. Even if he did confess and she reciprocated, how could that be a beneficial for either of them? He would just go back to Alfa Dexteras knowing that he was depriving her of a proper life with someone she could take for granted; some human who could give her everything Garrus could and more. He would not be able to be there for her when she probably most needed him. In fact, it was too late. Shepard had gone _comatose_ from _depression_, and he had not been there for her.

The dream from months before flashed in front of his eyes. It would be "all [his] fault," if he led her down that path.

It was like being stabbed in the heart. He did not deserve to have her no matter how much she may protest. Garrus was dying and would be dead just a few months into service without her around to keep him alive. No, he was no lover. He was a machine, a killer, a reaper. She deserved a being of flesh and bone, emotions and aspirations, not a monster.

His mind tore itself in two here: confess and give her the possible closure at the cost of her chance at normalcy, or stay silent and allow her to move on with someone else.

* * *

Val Shepard was still struggling with an inferiority complex after the latest workout session. She knew she would never be able to come close to the strength these Sicarians, whose bodies had evolved to pack as much strength as biologically possible into a lithe and stunningly attractive figure.

She also knew that _Vael'en_ was holding out on teaching her Sicarian anatomy until they could understand each other even better. That had not stopped Val from going through the Sicarian dictionary he had given her to pour over and coming across some words described as anatomical. She was tempted to look through the extremely high-quality medical diagrams included amongst the files on her Sicarian "holotool" as she had learned to call it. However, she felt that going over the secrets of his people without proper understanding would be like violating his trust.

If there was one thing she had learned, it was that Sicarians valued trust like they valued people and relationships. Love and trust were almost defined as the same word, and they were said often in place of the other.

The first time Val had uttered those forbidden words _Vael'en_ had frozen, then very calmly explained to her the obvious "mistake" she had made in her speech. She could replay everything about his tone in her head, and in retrospect, she could recall the sadness evident in his subvocals. She was still puzzled for the same reasons as before, remaining in the dark about his obvious attraction to her physical and mental beauty.

But they continued to live around each other and learn each other. Val's nightmares had gone and it seemed that his presence had wholly cured her of the terrors. She simply felt safer whenever he was nearby and felt lucky that he was actually her friend throughout this ordeal.

Day by day, the doubts about her return began to cloud her mind more and more. Sicarians had it better than anything she could expect to return to. Their technology was far better, their society was much better, and more importantly, their people were better. She had timidly greeted a few of the Agents in the residence who were shocked to say the least but polite, happy to offer their help or offer up a little conversation. Val guessed that if it were the opposite scenario, a Sicarian amidst a world of humans, it would be killed for being "different, disgusting, alien," taken apart with no respect for the body, just so they could figure out how to kill more should they arrive.

Val wanted less and less to actually remain a human, but at the same time held desperately on to the one thing that tied her back to the galaxy and her old life. The one characteristic that forever made her Val Shepard.

Oracle was sitting in the other room contemplating the possible ways by which Val would receive the proposition to implant her with Sicarian subvocals and a neural tether so that she may hear and speak the subvocals without her emulator. It would also help her with efficiency and increase the speed with which she could learn the language and the more personal expressions.

Along with some of his doctors and scientists, Oracle had designed the implant heads specifically to fit her form, which he guiltily remembered perfectly from just the one look he had stolen that one night. They would barely take up any space at all on her skin and have the capability to project the same range as natural subvocals.

Not to mention… he would tell her later. For now, he rose and gathered himself. Oracle knocked on Val's door and she welcomed him in with a smile and a friendly trill on her emulated subvocals.

Oracle cleared his lenses, ran a gulp of air through past his cords, and opened his mouth to speak.


	11. Letting Go

Don't murder me.

Also welcome aboard Mekazeth. As always thank you to Spyke1985 and "Guest."

Remember, in the sections with Val and Oracle: _italics=English_, normal=Sicarian; _This only applies during dialogue_.

* * *

Ada Shepard awoke and propped herself up on her elbows on the bed. She vaguely remembered Garrus helping her inside the house after she had been too tired to do much of anything. He had said something to her that she was now straining to remember. Whatever it was, it had lit a fire in her somewhere it was spreading quickly.

She was not going to last at the rate it was burning her down.

She felt muggy and noticed that she was still wearing her clothing from yesterday. She must really have been tired if she had not even bothered to take a shower and change. She got up quickly, feeling disgusting, and hurried into the bathroom, only to find that none of her things were unpacked. She cursed her own exhausted state. She unpacked just toiletries and showered off, trying to remember what it was he said. Maybe she could just ask him.

She stepped out of her bedroom after unpacking some of her other stuff and getting dressed heavier clothing for the cold weather. She finally glanced up and gawked as the view forced her breath out of the room. Garrus had not been lying when he told her the view was amazing. She had seen pictures of natural parks on Earth like Yosemite and Zion, but this view topped both.

She puzzled over the fact that she had never seen this place before. She was staring so hard that she barely heard the knock on her door.

"Ada?"

She jumped out of her skin as his quiet voice still shattered the silence like a gunshot. She gathered herself and opened the door to find a still very lightly-dressed Garrus in the hallway.

"Sleep well? You kind of dropped on me there," he mused.

"Quite well actually."

She thought _really_ hard about asking him what happened last night; what he had told her, but she knew that it would just kill the moment and probably ruin the mystique of it all.

"You were right about the view, Garrus. How come I've never heard of this place? I've lived here for eighteen years."

"It's just undeveloped wilderness. The cities and towns have not had enough time to expand out here yet. No one wants this land because it's too hard to develop, and offers nothing besides natural beauty. I know that Humans and Turians both value natural majesty, so the Vakarian family purchased 1000 square km of land. Cheap. Still Cheap, the only thing we maintain is _Domsaltus_."

"Your family owns… 1000 square km of _this_? Garrus, eventually tourists will get down on their knees and beg your family for it."

"It's public. It has been since we bought it, we just wanted a secure plot to keep developers away. We know another family, humans with an adopted Turian daughter, who has a small site on the opposite side of the zone; we've gotten together a few times and trail-blazed. Nice people, good stuff."

"I'm guessing most of that's gone by now."

"The fauna keep them trampled down pretty nicely. But, the whole fun of this place, is that most of its still completely uncharted, dangerous, mysterious."

"Sounds like my kind of guy," Shepard replied with sultry tone.

"Hmm… I might have to beat him up for taking you and dropping me here," Garrus replied, knowingly playing her game but whishing it was real.

"Oh it's nothing like that," she mocked severity.

"Really? You two are clearly intimate. I mean, you are _inside_."

"Not okay, Garrus," she laughed.

"Didn't know you were in to that kinky stuff."

"That's enough."

"Anything you want for breakfast?" he quickly shifted gears.

"How do you… what can you make?"

"First word that comes to mind… go!" he said startling her a little.

"Ah!" she jumped at the sudden noise and movement.

"Huh, I'll have to look that one up."

"Damn you Garrus," she said playfully, "can you do bacon and waffles?"

"Yep."

"Really?"

"I know a bit about human meals, Ada."

"Why?"

In the event that we live together I need to know these things, love. She was unaware that traditionally Turian males hunted, prepared, and served meals to those they trying to court or those already mated to them. _Very_ traditional.

"Our families have been close. It's a utility if anything. Also Black Ops trains you to care for species outside of just Turians in certain rare events; which includes foods. I can make you something Drell if you asked nicely."

"You really make me feel capable here Garrus."

"I try."

The kitchen, living room, and dining room were all really just one space divided by waist-high walls. Just like with her bedroom, a wall-window let in the view and the sunlight. The dining table was circular and large enough for six, made from brushed alloy to fit the color scheme of the rest of the abode. The Turian chairs were shaped a little oddly for human backs but they were still quite comfortable.

Shepard opted to sit at the counter and chat while he made her a meal he could not eat. She felt guilty.

"You shouldn't have to do this for me Garrus."

"I don't mind."

"Really," she said disbelieving.

"I really don't. Why is that so hard to believe?"

"Not sure. Cooking other people's meals doesn't seem like…" the kind of thing a superior being should stoop to.

"Like what?"

Shepard was sorry she had spoken.

"Never mind."

Garrus knew to drop it there.

Shepard sat back a little and let the reality that they were here, in the middle of scenic nowhere, along and together, sink in to its fullest. She just had to figure out how she was going to tell him.

"So, what do you have in mind for today, almighty warden of the wilderness," Shepard said it with sarcasm, but she did not really know how true that was.

"I thought we could head down to the river, bring some camping materials, and spend the night down there," he said nonchalantly. It would be just like a typical survival practice, only way more difficult because Shepard was there.

"A-alright," she was a little hesitant. She had never really been camping and they had _just_ gotten there.

"Or," he said immediately, sensing her hesitation, "we could hike around the area, beat down some of fading trails and eat lunch at the highest peak we can climb."

"Okay. Not that I wouldn't love to hike down and stay the night it's just…"

"You've never gone before," he completed, "Yah I remember the feeling. We'll only do what you want. This trip is about your recovery from that… whole thing."

Shepard looked away for a second and Garrus knew he had blown it.

"Sorry Ada," he crooned.

Shepard slipped. Everything had been going fine until he reminded her that all of this was spurred by her _recovery_ and not _her_. Under different circumstances, he would never have asked out to their retreat because there would be a gaping lack of impetus. Garrus was breaking his back so that she could get "better" because he seemed to care more about the broken version of Ada Shepard than the normal one.

She could either chose the selfish path and stay broken and fragile so at least he would stay close by, or she could recover and eventually learn to move on with her life without him. So which was worse? Shepard was ashamed of herself for losing all the strength she had built in herself over eighteen years. Unfortunately, all that strength had been supported by her family members. And Garrus. She had also formed a massively unhealthy attraction to Garrus and had begun to depend on it to get her through the day.

Her fatal flaw. Her tragic addiction. She was to him attached in the worst and best possible way.

* * *

"_Val_," Oracle began, nervousness coating his subvocals, "Um… _I- We-"_

He sucked in more air as amber rushed to his scales. He really had not prepared for this as much as he should have.

"What would you say, if you did not have to use the program to speak Sicarian anymore?"

Val blinked. He had seen that expression enough times to know that she was confused.

"_What?_" she replied still not understanding what it was he was trying to tell her.

"I and a scientific team have taken it upon ourselves to research to design you implants that will allow you to fully speak and hear Sicarian without a program," he spoke slowly, but not because he thought she would not be able to understand. He was so hesitant around this topic because he knew it could easily split them down the middle. He desperately wanted her to accept it; to let at least a small part of the Sicarian in her come alive. But Oracle knew that she would want to hang onto her _Human_ side as well.

Val cocked her head and narrowed her eyes, unsure of what she was hearing.

"_You want to… implant me with something?_"

According to him, these implants would allow her to speak Sicarian without the program. Val was debating on whether or not this was a good idea. However, if their other technologies were any indication, her assumed surgery would go without a hitch and these implants would work to perfection. She had heard talk of some scientific theories that proved it possible for Humans to receive implants which allowed them to speak Turian. It was science-fiction.

However, Vael'en would never lie to her, he would never put her in immediate danger, and would never suggest anything to her unless he truly meant it.

She knew she was not going to leave the planet anytime soon, so receiving these implants, assuming they were unobtrusive, would only benefit her ability to fit in with their people. She closed her eyes, convinced herself to accept his proposal, placed everything in his hands, and then opened her mouth to speak.

Oracle swallowed, a mannerism that he definitely picked up from her. He was extremely on edge about this whole thing, possibly even more so than she. She closed her eyes in thought. He spoke before she could get a word out.

"_I'm sorry I suggested it Val,_" he mourned.

"I accept proposal," she said confidently, keeping her stare upon his. She watched his lenses adjust around and flicker. He was certainly surprised; her emulator was picking it up easily.

"You do?"

"Yes."

"Okay then. Please allow me to talk with you about them for a moment."

"Of course," she replied. Oracle almost visibly shuddered at the thought of her prospective ability to speak like that naturally. Her true voice revealed.

"These implants are small," he pulled up a hologram of their sound caps and adjusted them, "these are real-size holograms,"

"real-size what?"

"Hologram, a _3-dimensional image of an object, cast into air like this_," he motioned at the hologram and she immediately understood.

"_Okay,_ hologram,_ hologram_, _got it._ Please continue."

"What you see here is their exact size,"

Val looked over the hologram he was showing her. There were six total sound caps, three pairs of beautifully shaped and relatively small metal-alloy plates that looked like they could fit on her figure flush.

"_Where will these go?_" she asked.

Oracle set his holotool to static mode and centered the projection zone around her upper chest. He placed two pairs just above and below the clavicle towards the jugular notch, and another two just below the acromial extremities. He pulled up a mirror so she could see how they looked where they were.

"Three more will go behind each… _ear_," he had to use English. There was no real equivalent word in Sicarian for the complex auditory organs on the sides of her head. He plucked each set of the three, one in each hand, and leaned forward. He tucked her hair behind her ears _almost_ slow enough to be considered romantic and dropped the holograms there. When Val moved her head they automatically tracked to it.

"Very small as you can see," he pointed out. They implants going into her skull were almost completely invisible; they were fairly small and would always be covered by her silken hair.

Val nodded slowly accepting that these would become a part of her permanently, marking her as different. Unique. But at the same time some kind of freak of science. She could probably have them removed if she really wanted him to. He would do it if she asked. She forced herself to treat this as if it were really permanent, like a tattoo or a scar. These would be her first step towards being Sicarian, and farther from being _Human_.

It may make her a freak, a monster like they, but quite frankly she would rather have it that way. Now that she was beginning to think in Sicarian, she could hardly see the point of resisting this change.

"When?"

"Right now if you want."

Val coughed. She had certainly not been expecting that. Did she want that?

She did.

Was this all happening too quickly?

It was.

Did she need more time to think this one-way trip over?

No.

She trusted him. This would go according to plan. This was permanent but worth the risks and benefits.

"Take me," she said.

_INCORRECT!_ Oracle's mind screamed at him as he reeled. He would _gladly _have done so _if_ they were _mated_. Fortunately he knew what she meant and had to correct her.

"You mean 'bring me,'" he said, amber rushing to his scales in a blush. His mandibles were currently having a seizure.

"_What did I say_?"

"You asked me to have sexual intercourse with you," he replied matter-of-factly. Her skin turned completely crimson, mirroring his embarrassment. She averted her gaze.

"_Oh God, I'm so sorry_. I'm ready, bring me."

"Are you sure, _Val_? I can give you more time to think about it."

"I'm sure."

"_Then follow me_."

Oracle tapped out a message to his flight Agents and his medical Agents that they were about to go through with the procedure right then. His team was prepared to operate and perfectly certain that this operation would go according to plan. Operating on a completely alien species with Sicarian tech was high on the scale of crazy shit accomplished, but it was not the highest.

His confidence steeled. Hers wavered with each step.

Once in the medical vehicle, Oracle produced a small injector filled with a sedative known to be compatible with her biology. Urgency and tension filled the air as Val looked into his eyes expectantly and nervously.

"You are sure?"

"Yes"

Her heart rate was rising slowly as he pressed the device against her neck.

Click. The needle shot out and retracted in an instant, administering the sedative into her jugular.

"_Everything will be okay, Val._"

Her heart rate began to decline and her eyelids to droop. No turning back now. Her hand searched for his and he took it despite the implications. Her fingers slipped between his and squeezed with the last ounces of her fading strength.

Val wished he had not been wearing gloves so she could actually feel his touch. She could just make out a few last coherent thoughts as she drifted off. Her hand fit so perfectly with his, despite the odd location of the second thumb. That is so odd, she thought. Most Humans would find their species disgusting, horrifying, monsters before seeing the true being. It would be the same attitude that most had felt towards the Turians. Humans: so quick to assume and generalize by appearance, what a lousy bunch.

* * *

Garrus and Shepard packed into some heavier hiking gear for the cold weather outside; the peak he had pointed out was not the highest, but there would be significant wind-chill. This peak was the one he and his family scaled every time they visited because it was safe yet relatively challenging. It gave a wonderful view of the valley and the surrounding mountains and could really cause one to focus on the moment and nothing else.

Shepard threw lunch together for herself while Garrus did the same. They headed out the door into the cold weather a few seconds later. Luckily, the snow that usually fell around this time of the year had yet to, which was why he suggested camping out so quickly after arriving there in the first place. If it got too cold, then they both would have problems, and Garrus did not feel comfortable sharing his space with Shepard like he did with Victus. One was a… fantasy, an ache, a burning need, and the other was a close friend, a simple comfort.

Although, he did quite prefer the idea of them both in a cramped tent, pressed against one another for warmth. They would probably be doing something else for warmth as well.

He cleared his thoughts and turned his attention back to the task at hand, which was almost too late to stop himself from slamming his face into the door. He sent Shepard out first and then locked up the cabin.

The morning sun began to warm them as they set out on the only trail that Garrus would really consider a trail. The dirt path was narrow and offered guidance, but the heavy foliage growing in the path obscured a lot of it. Every mile or so the density of the forest decreased.

Garrus had forgotten what it was like to look around and observe this kind of beauty. Black Ops had turned every excursion into a mission requiring total focus on the targets and survival. Now that there were none, however, he could really slow down and take a look.

Their plot of land, unnamed, was quite a great deal more breathtaking than he remembered. He had perspective now, perhaps, and took little for granted anymore. Shepard was certainly enjoying herself as they stepped through the clearings. The canopy of yellow and green trees and foliage cast a warm light around everything to combat the cold.

Spirits Shepard looked beautiful here. The light glanced off her short neck-length auburn hair and caused it to sparkle like fire. She finally looked free of her problems and free of her cares. She was unlocked here and her journey back could begin. In the mile and a half they had so far covered, she had already made more progress towards her old self than months of therapy would ever give her. Solana had been right.

Garrus, however, was not too entirely sure he wanted her to recover. The more fragile variant of Shepard seemed to need his presence much more than the old one. It was really all he could ask for. He knew it was extremely selfish, but his bond had already secured itself with her. Separation anxieties would run high when they had to separate and he would slowly go insane if he did not see here every now and then.

He was also walking a slippery slope here. He would help her recover because that was his job as her… mate, but that would only mean she could move on faster and fall into the arms of another. Turians did not deal particularly well with that sort of thing. It would not be considered cheating if she did that; she did not see herself as bonded to him, but rather, he would be the third wheel in a relationship. Nothing was more demoralizing, humiliating, and painful than occupying that role.

He kept putting one more wobbly foot in front of another and followed her. She seemed to know where they needed to go.

They walked without speaking, letting their heavy breaths relieve some tension on every exhale. They persevered up the ever rising slope of the peak. Eventually they passed the timber line and greeted the expanse of the gradually sloping rock face in front of them, scattered with crags and boulders.

Shepard slowed and stopped, waiting for him to approach her side. The impressive majesty of it all was making the breathing more difficult. Garrus stopped beside her and stood observing the rock face as if he were greeting an old friend.

"Getting tired there trooper?" she said between breaths.

"I should be asking you the same thing."

"I just need a few moments. This thing looks difficult."

"It's actually quite simple once you get the hang of it. The rock can bend at your will if you know where to put your hands. And yes, Ada, that was intentionally dirty."

She snapped her mouth shut but snickered anyway.

"Actually I wasn't-"

"I know you, you were."

There was a pause before she admitted.

"Okay yes I was."

"See? Should be another hour until we reach the peak. Also dirty, you're welcome."

"I'm up for the challenge. You should probably take the lead here. You talk like you know what you're doing."

Garrus looked up at the rock face and planted his foot onto the first boulder and began to navigate between the rocks and crevices with Shepard in tow. He had wanted to avoid showing the strength that his campaign had granted him in fear that Shepard would find it too alien, but he had no choice when they came to a ledge too tall to climb.

He surveyed the height of the jump, about two and half times his own height. Challenging, but he could jump higher. He winced a little and then leapt up.

Shepard staggered back. He had worn such an unreadable expression for a second and then suddenly launched roughly five meters into the air so he could grab onto the ledge with one hand and dangle. She blinked a few times, completely unprepared for that amount of speed and agility from him. Good God that was a high jump.

He was holding onto the ledge and keeping himself steady with his outstretched legs. He bent almost impossibly and extended a hand out to her. She was thinking that both of them with their gear would be too heavy for his one arm to pull up. Perhaps he was suggesting that she climb over him and then pull him up herself.

But no. She had to jump and reach out to grab his hand so he could meet her halfway at the wrist. Her fingers instinctively gripped onto his wrist. Her body accelerated off the ground and found itself flush to the side of his, arm around her waist. He threw both of their bodies upwards with enough force to send them into the air and land his feet on the ledge, but not hers. He took one step away from the drop and set her down.

"Whoa there Garrus," she breathed, legs shaking a little.

"Sorry, I probably should have warned you or something."

"Might have been nice, but I prefer surprises. Didn't know you could jump like that. Or… you know… well do _any_ of that."

Shepard knew how to freerun, she could probably show off some of her skills as well.

"But I could have made that."

"Sure you could," Garrus replied with his typical sarcasm.

"Alright mister, I'm so manly I can pull up three times my weight with one arm, what do you say to a race to the peak?"

Garrus knew he would have to hold back for her sake. He knew she was extremely good at freerunning, but by simple fact, he was stronger, faster, and had increased stamina. He had a few years of elite combat agility training from a drell master assassin under his belt, she had only time, determination, and aspiration. But this was about her.

"Sure. If you want I can haul some of your gear."

"And give you an unfair disadvantage? No way. Level playing field."

"Alright then, whenever you're ready."

She grinned and he did too, so happy to see that she was forgetting all the horrible events and moving on if just for these fleeting moments. Shepard turned and launched herself into a sprint, feeling the euphoria of freedom coursing through her.

They ran quickly yet carefully across the rough terrain of the jagged rocks until they reached the peak. Shepard had exhausted her entire body on that run and managed to stay ahead of Garrus the entire time. She stripped her outer layer off and caught her breath, allowing the chilling wind to wash around her like water.

"That was rewarding," she panted. Each drop of sweat like a teardrop she had not yet cried for her losses. They still were not enough. Her subconscious was about to break again after waiting so long. Garrus had to be there when it did.

"Damn," he said, sounding not nearly as winded as she, "I'm hungry."

"I agree," she said still panting. They set down their outer layers on the plateau of the peak as covering and sat down, unloading their food from their backpacks.

They ate and absorbed the view from the peak. Shepard had been inching closer and closer to him throughout absent mindedly as the heat from the exercise wore off. Garrus' talons were just centimeters from her waist when he stopped himself. _Too close_. Instead he set his hand down just next to her and kept it at that.

The valley opened up beneath them and they could see for miles. A cloud had been shot down and laid dead at one end of the vast canyon. The spear that pierced it shot up, proudly the tallest peak in the area. The lake at the top of its plateau flooded down the side of the sheer face and sparkled even at the great distance. The stars gave birth to the river at the bottom of the valley that parted the trees and wound like a live wire.

And all he could see was Ada.

* * *

"Oracle,"

"Yes Senatas?"

"The operation was completely successful," he said, holding back some information. Oracle still relaxed and gulped in a breath of relief.

"You have something more to say."

"Yes… we have begun to detect traces of… well hybrid strands."

Oracle's eyes flashed.

"What does that mean for her?"

"My apologies Sir, allow me to explain. And I have a few for you that require immediate attention."

"I am listening."

"Have you noticed and strange changes in her? Personality, physical structure? Anything."

"No, not yet at least."

"Nothing painful for her? Causing problems?"

"Not that she has expressed openly."

"Because some of her Hum'an muscle tissue has begun to transmute into Sicarian tissues, and blood enroute from the brain back to the heart has been taking on hybrid characteristics; developing a dual-chiral structure unique to her. You will notice extreme increases in her physical strength, possibly some other changes we cannot predict. We implore you to schedule appointments with us so we can check to make sure nothing has been damaged and that she has properly adjusted to her implants."

Maybe there was hope. He would have to be honest with her, just not yet. He needed to have more of a grasp over her language and she his before they discussed any of these things. He had a sinking feeling that she would consider it lying by omission and hate him for not telling her sooner.

"How long until she is able to pick them up and use them?"

"We can only guess, but based on her knowledge of the language so far and her proficiency with the program she created, it should be maybe… five, six months."

"Lights above she is going to be frustrated."

"I apologize, Sir," his Agent said ashamedly.

"No, no, I am extremely grateful that your team has completed this task with such precision and proficiency. She is extremely intelligent by our standards; therefore she is used to picking things up quickly and mastering them quickly."

"I have confidence in your… is she-"

"Not yet," Oracle all but whispered, knowing exactly what he meant to ask and feeling crushed by it.

"Your close friend," his Agent completed, "her body seemed willing to accept the intrusions and the tether was quick to bind. She may be distraught at first, but the end result will satisfy."

"Amazing. I cannot thank you and your team enough, Senatas."

The grasped each other's wrists in a Sicarian handshake.

"On my honor."

"On our honor, Sir. And we are humbled that you speak so highly of us."

The doctor's holotool flashed.

"Allow me to direct you to her. She is just now waking."

"Hurry."

They walked briskly to the bed on which Val was currently laying, a standard undergarment around her chest, covering her breasts but leaving her shoulders and upper chest completely vulnerable. The implants were clearly visible and complemented her stunning figure. He had not told her that they looked like Sicarian jewelry which often consisted of alloy and gem fused direly to the sonos and sometimes through the skin. He struggled to keep his hands to himself.

The way she could draw all of his focus to her was overpowering. Sicarians could focus on everything in their field of view at once, a wonderful miracle of evolution, and yet just one being could remove all of that ability. Some of his Agents had spoken about this feeling; like nothing else in the environment was present but the other. This occurred when two Sicarians in love saw each other for the first time.

Lights above, he was hopeless.

* * *

The darkness around the edges of her vision receded slowly and she was brought back to the world of the living.

The first thing Val Shepard saw was the amber of Vael'en's eyes, intense as ever. Her upper chest felt surprisingly cold. She looked down and saw that she was barely covered and quickly pulled the blanket up to her shoulders in embarrassment. Vael'en's mandibles clicked nervously. She was not dead at least. Nor was she dreaming. Something about the aura he was giving off told her that she was back in reality and anchored there.

Then she noticed the small metal caps sitting on her form almost completely flush with her skin. She could not resist her urges and ran finger over one, gasping at the sudden stimulation of nerves in a location that had never before existed. She had gained feeling for the first time in some completely new, unidentified area that felt grounded in her chest but focused somewhere completely different. But so much feeling was so new that tears began to form in her eyes without explanation.

"_Val?_ What is wrong?" he sounded so worried. She could _feel_ how worried he was. The implants gave her sensory input in a new euphoric way. She could hear his true voice!

And oh God and Spirits it was even more powerful and striking than before, and it felt so natural. The tears of mixed emotions streamed down her face and she beamed, not sure why she was so intensely happy. Without caring about her apparent state of underdress she leaned forward and hugged Vael'en.

He froze for a moment before returning the embrace, clearly confused with her emotions.

She could hear _her own_ subvocals going berserk as she failed to control them. They trilled out the same mix of emotions that she was feeling. She could hear her own true voice. The one that she had kept locked within her for what seemed her entire life.

"_Vayelen_… _Vayel…_" she was currently unable to actually _use_ her subvocals for speech, but the important part was they were there and they worked. She could learn to use them; it would be no more difficult than before. She suddenly had this new awareness of the sounds around her, her mind just had to adapt to the signals.

"_I can't…_"

"Everything is alright," he soothed. Val practically melted as the vibrations from his subvocals coursed through her artificial sonos, "can you understand me?"

"_Yes_."

"Then soon enough, you will have total control over your true voice."

Right then her subvocals were simply pouring her emotions from her chest to his. She had trusted him going into this operation and she was still alive; better, in fact, than before.

"_Thank you so much_," she should have been horrified with herself. She had allowed a completely alien race to implant her with machine. If she was back at home, her family would freak out and she would probably be seen as nothing more than a bastardized human science experiment; an unfortunate accident of her abduction by aliens.

Luckily home was with Vael'en, and no matter how much she told herself to hold on to her humanity, she continued to lose her motivation to. Some powerful current was convincing her that becoming one of them was a good idea. Her life seemed to have weight here as she could think of more Sicarians who would be devastated by her death than Humans.

Vael'en ran the pad of his… "pointer" finger across the small metal caps. Each one gave her a jolt of nerve stimulation in those new, now no longer vacant places in her mind.

He pulled up the holomirror and showed Val herself. The metal caps actually looked quite alluring. The two on her shoulders pointed towards the ones centered close to the jugular notch. The remaining four were molded in such a way that they flowed with her own curves, and directed the gaze to her face.

Val smiled, tears still in her eyes and subvocals still thanking and crying out happiness over and over. She finally drew away from his embrace.

"_Am I cleared? Can we head home now?_"

"_Yes_," he responded, "_let us go home_."


	12. Shared Weakness

I had trouble figuring out what to do with this chapter. I hope it's up to speed.

Warning: another graphic dream sequence.

I always proof-read, but that never entirely works; so hopefully if I've made any grammar mistakes they don't fuck with your ability to understand.

* * *

Ada knew she was going to fall apart at some point just not that very night in the quiet of _Domsaltus_ and the solitude of her guest room. Shepard had thought that she was doing so well beforehand. The hike and lunch at the peak had been so cathartic and uplifting, and she could remember thinking about nothing more than how nice the view as how wonderful it felt to have Garrus so damn close to her.

They had returned in the evening as the sun began to fall, and Garrus had made them two separate dinners so they could eat in front of the sunset. It could have been romantic, only they were missing something. They talked about plans for tomorrow, things they had both observed on their hike that they found interesting, or teased each other about the race. Garrus took her light-hearted jabs in stride just like he always did. Shepard was clearly feeling wonderful and perfectly contented.

So Shepard had not expected to break. Garrus was more surprised than she. Something about the environment: everything was so quiet and personal that she was given no choice but to think about her bleak future and her still quite broken mind. She could so easily juxtapose the feelings of happiness with those of hopelessness and recognize that when she was taken away from him, her life would return. All she had gained from the day was a vivid demonstration of yet more emotions that she could not have ever again. Without having a second's warning, she broke into tears as if nothing had changed.

Garrus' eyes snapped open and his heart stopped before he could really tell what was going on. He could feel that something was going horribly wrong so he bolted upright, threw something on for Shepard's sake, and began to scan the house for what was giving him this feeling. Naturally the first place he looked was Shepard's room.

His blood froze as he heard her sobs through the door. He thought that she was getting past everything but apparently she was stuck. He cringed. He decided it would be a good idea to barge in, knowing well enough that she may not be wearing _anything_. In most cases, he would never be able to see past her figure if it was presented to him, but right now he was so focused on finding out what was wrong and making sure that she was alright that he knew he could overlook such a thing.

The door slammed open and Shepard looked up at the barely covered Turian who stormed over to her. Only when he wrapped the blanket from the bed around her shoulders had she realized that she was shivering.

"I," she choked on her words, "I thought I was done with all this."

Garrus held a talon to her lips and silenced her. His eyes were practically flashing with worry and pain.

"I don't need an explanation," he purred, hoping the vibrations from his subharmonics would be enough to calm her nerves. Shepard turned her head into his shoulder and continued her unexplained crash. Without thinking he scooped her into his arms and hauled her out into the main room and set her down on the couch. A few minutes later he was back with hot chocolate, which he knew could calm her down when she was upset or angry. He just hoped it would not make it worse; usually one of her now-deceased family members would bring it in for her.

He was glad that he had remembered to pick up the proper means to make it because Shepard had not. He could only guess at the right amounts and quickly returned to her in under two minutes with her beverage.

Shepard was still shaking with the onslaught of depression that was her crash when Garrus returned with a large cup of something that smelled a lot like hot chocolate. He pulled over the small table to the side of the couch and set the cup down next to her before picked her off the cushions and slid behind her as a replacement. Then the warmth of the cup was in her hands and she held to it. The warmth of his Turian carapace penetrated the blanket and warmed her back as she lay against him.

"Thank you," she managed.

"Spirits Ada. What happened?" he whispered.

"I… I don't know," she replied, equally quiet.

"I'm not going to pressure you to explain yourself, Ada, only if you feel you want to talk. Just let me know if there's anything I can do for you."

She lay in the cradle that his powerful form provided, allowing it to stave off the last of her depressions. She sipped her cup of comfort until it ran out about the same time her tears did, nearly an hour later according to the clock.

Her personal space smelled like Garrus: an intoxicating mix of pine and roses after rain. Shepard was far too tired to operate herself and her body needed some time to recover from the complete crash. Aftershocks and stray tears still wracked her figure but Garrus' strong arms kept her from falling victim to more. She knew not where to go from there, on that the last thing she wanted was to leave his presence and slip even farther towards to irreparable melancholia.

Her strength and determination were simply absent factors at that point, so she opted instead to exploit Garrus' wonderful permissiveness and over-understanding while she still could. The only side effect was feeling extremely guilty with her half-fake-half-true disguise. She was using her own weakness to her advantage; to improve her own recovery she needed to fake no progress at all. But the bout of depression had been real, and it was still spreading its effects over her.

After Garrus took the empty cup from her hands she twisted in his arms and lay her cheek against the soft leathery skin of his neck. She lay there until she found herself wondering where his keel bone went. After an indiscernible amount of time, the feeling of his heartbeat and breathing quickly put her right out.

* * *

Val Shepard was sitting up in her upside-down Sicarian bed pouring her memories into her journal. She had gone back and translated the entire English version to Sicarian to the best of her ability and now kept two copies in separate languages. With each day, she found that her ability to read and write in Sicarian was ever increasing, as was her preference for it over English.

She could not stop touching her implants. Her dirty teenage mind went ahead and classified it as masturbation, something she could never let anyone catch her doing, but it seemed justifiable because it was in a completely different area even though the two acts meant the same thing. It was also to get used to how they felt and to help her pinpoint their effective locations within her mind. Once she knew those locations well enough, she could control them with her thoughts to do whatever she demanded. However, she was still lost.

A week into life with her new subvocals and she still had no control over them. She was frustrated. A low growl shook her ribcage. Her emotions seemed to be the only legitimate possessor of the damn things. She marveled at the growl; at how bad-ass it sounded. Her growl vindicated some part of her that always fed submission into her personality. Her growl sounded more powerful than any she had heard, including from Turians: confident, dangerous, and unafraid. Something was changing in her and causing her to think in this way but she had yet to identify it.

Vael'en had been gone for a long time on business and the nightmares had come back enforce. Each time had been just about the same.

She was entirely not expecting anything different when she closed her eyes. She had nearly gotten used to them. Vael'en always jumped in to decimate her attackers and make sure she was safe in the end.

* * *

Val awoke in a medical room with Humans in lab coats wandering in all sorts of directions. She forgot momentarily that there was no logical connect between the waking up at home and _every_ event that added up improperly. Her confusion told her that they had been kidnapped from their home while they were sleeping. And while she was happy to see Human faces again, something seemed horrible wrong with the entire situation.

She tried to get out of the bed but found that she was bound to it by metal cuffs. She craned her neck and looked around the room. The Humans were speaking in some foreign language that she could not recognize, but they sounded panicked.

There was another bed in the room with something on it. She looked over and saw the familiar rock-gray skin of Vael'en. Just after she registered than she saw that his chest was opened up and there were some people digging around in there, completely ignorant to their surroundings. Pieces of him were missing like his forearm and primary armatures, one of his hands, and the fringes on his head. Val felt sick to her stomach and screamed at them.

Then he coughed, limbs straining weakly against the restraints. The gurgle of blood in air canals was the only expression of pain he could muster after the way he had been carved open.

Val hurled everything in her stomach and more out through her mouth. They were operating on her best friend and _he was still alive!_ She could feel his pain through the air and it stung like no other. She roared, her subvocals warped the sound into a voluminous cloud of noise that encased the room. It was a fearful sound indeed. Inhuman.

She had to stop them at all costs. These were not Humans, they were monsters.

They had not expected her strength when they shackled her in the thin metal cuffs, because she strained with every last ounce of strength against them and they tore off, leaving angry red gashes on her wrists. Some of her captors rushed over to hold her down but she threw them across the room with little effort on her part. She ripped her legs from their holds and freed herself.

Her complete lack of clothing did little to slow her as she hauled the three Humans operating on Vael'en away with enough force to send them cracking against the walls, ruining their spines. The rest of the Humans ran out of the room and the door locked, leaving her alone with her dying friend and protector.

And…

"Vael'en! No! Please don't die, you're all that I have left! I can't do this without you," she was sobbing, her subvocals keening more than just her voice could output.

She ripped his shackles off, but the damage done to his system was too great to reverse. A two-thumbed five-fingered Sicarian hand made contact with her face as she knelt at his deathbed. Val grasped a slowly fading life with her hand and kept it from leaving as long as she could. Vael'en coughed and splattered amber blood onto her bare skin. Lights above he could not even speak; His sonos was completely gone and his normal vocal cords were stripped. His neck was parted in the center and drawn open like curtains. Most of the blood was contained but he was still bleeding out as it oozed from gashes in the smaller veins.

Val dry heaved again. He could not even say goodbye, he could not tell her something to make her feel better, and he could not express his own feelings of loss. He could only wait until his life finally escaped in pain and torture. She dry heaved again and her tears increased in flow. He would never do anything to Humanity to deserve this. She was forced to watch his descent to death in agony she could not even imagine, yet he was calm and gentle, the hand was not locking her in a death-grip, but a loving one. She could feel his pain recede as he continued to stroke her face with his hand. The only remaining hand.

Val did her best to soothe him with her subvocals.

"You never deserved this," she realized she was speaking perfect Sicarian, "you still do not deserve this. Oh, Oracle I'm so sorry."

Wait, Oracle? What?

He tried to sit up but could not because his abdominal flexors were completely gone. The only leverage he where the muscles in his spine, which expanded weakly and lifted his shoulders barely a few centimeters. Val observed this and cried even harder. She watched the muscles in his neck flex and bend his face towards hers. She leaned in as if expecting to hear him say one last thing but instead his grip shifted and guided her lips to graze against his.

She could see the flash of his lenses through the skin of her eyelids as they shut.

A chaste kiss was all she got before he died. All the light left his eyes literally and his hand fell limp. The door to the room opened and Val spun around and bared her teeth, growling in utter hatred and barely contained fury.

She gasped when the last person in the galaxy she expected to see standing held a pistol steadily at an arm's length.

"_Ada?_" Val exclaimed. Her sister's eyes narrowed.

"_Freak_."

The gunshot rang in her ears and she was thrown back.

* * *

And out of her bed. She was back home in the Nostrom residence.

"_Ow fuck!_" she cursed as her face slammed into the floor. The emotions were still there. The _pain_ and the _sadness _were still there, but not just in her face. She felt like a part of her had been ripped away and something was keeping it from being put back. She stood up, her legs shaking and her subvocals wavering like crazy. She just could not wipe the images stained upon her mind.

She really did not want to go back to sleep after that but at the same time she was incredibly tired.

A soft knock sounded at her door and her heart leapt. She could literally hear it skip a few beats with her superior hearing implants.

"_Please come in_."

Thank the Lights it was Vael'en in the doorway. He made it five steps before she was up and wrapping her arms around his neck in the middle of the dark room.

"Greetings _Val_, you seem… happy to see me," he crooned, sensing something was awry.

"_I can't sleep when you're gone Vayelen_" she cringed when she could not pronounce him name properly, "_I keep having nightmares_."

Her mind was replaying the last one with clarity, and her eyes were tearing up again. For some reason it felt far worse than the dreams about rape.

"_You know I am here when you want talk about those_," he spoke quietly.

Did she? Val was still questioning her own strength on the matter. She never spoke about her dreams to him and so far nothing had changed; every time he was off for work the nightmares came back, vivid as ever. Then when he did come back everything was quiet. She figured that confession would be the best way for her to at least find solace. Vael'en was extremely intelligent; hell it was in his job description to predict the future according to him. He could probably fix her problems.

"I know you do not like to talk about them, _Val_, but I can feel your pain. I know it is great and deep. _Please, Val, both of us suffer. I don't want you to continue this way._"

Val's mouth dropped open with the new information. Not only was she harming herself, but him as well. At that moment she felt outright guilty.

"_Alright,_" she began.

"Just a moment," he interrupted and carried her over to the couch to set her down and sit next to her, "please continue."

Val recounted her thoughts to the best of her ability. The images were still freshly cut so she had really no problems recalling. She was sure that some of the detail was unnecessary, but she could not stop herself from spilling out her thoughts with the healthy omission of some specific details. Because it felt so relieving to finally confess, she was sobbing again by the time she finished talking. Her subvocals backed up and legitimized her emotions as real.

"_Do not worry: I am still here, Val. _Find solace in that it was only a dream, nothing more."

Her head bumped into his shoulder and she continued to shake. The scapulal closest to her twitched, aching to fold out and wrap her up. Oracle was being destroyed from the inside seeing her like this. It was worse that she was changing; developing a superconscious. Her emotions now were far clearer and easier to pick up than when they first met.

He was thoroughly appalled by the last part of her dream: the part where her sister apparently gunned her down. Oracle had no siblings, but he knew families that did and they were always extremely tight. Siblings shared a special bond, which held its own importance, where other Sicarians lacked any. When gauged with respect to one another, the relationship to the parents was strong, between siblings was stronger, and between mates the strongest.

He easily saw the connection between the dream and her new implants. Her mind thought of herself as inhuman, a freak of some kind, which is why it displayed even her sister as an enemy. What he could not work out was why he was in the dream to begin with.

Unless…

"_I stay tonight,_" he murmured.

"_Thank you_," Val whispered before he extricated her from his arms and set her back in the bed. He normally went back to sitting on the couch, but this time he kneeled right next to her bed and froze perfectly still.

"_I will stay right here_," he concluded before falling silent. Val did not understand how they could sit still for so long without their muscles tiring. She supposed that any creature as powerful as they could pull such a feat off without any issues.

She drifted off again and finally fell under a dreamless cloak of sleep.

* * *

Ada Shepard woke up in the guest bed and rubbed her eyes. She imaged what she felt in the moment was equivalent to a nasty hangover, because she had a killer headache and her vision swam. She groaned as she sat up and feasted her eyes once again on the view outside her window. Ada groggily left the too-comfortable Turian bed and set her feet on the ground.

Shepard ran a hand across her burning forehead and decided that a shower was probably a good idea after falling asleep in her clothing. That was when she noticed that the only clothing she wore was her underwear, and that there was no way she had been awake to take anything off. That could _only_ mean that Garrus had removed her outer layer for her.

She groaned. _Why_ did she miss that?

She paused before turning on the shower. Dare she waste time fantasizing about it? She did not want to waste the water, however, and she could hear hotshot in the main room rummaging around through some utensils. She decided not to keep him waiting so she resisted her urges, showered, and slid into a fresh set of clothing.

Garrus had to make everything so easy and so difficult at the same time. She was finally on the path to recovery and after crying out her last tears, which was incidentally the path away from Garrus. She was furious because the only way to regain her strength was to start from scratch, because currently it was entirely based upon a time bomb. If she was to have even a prayer of survival when it went off she would have to start on her own; find something that she could take for granted and base everything around that instead.

She walked into the main room and sat down at the table facing the view quietly.

"Hey Ada," she heard him say without having to turn around, "did you sleep well?"

"Yah."

Garrus brought over two plates, one for her covered in pancakes, butter, and maple syrup, and another for him with some sort of starchy mush. They ate together in silence.

"Did you enjoy undressing me?"

Garrus froze and slowly set down his Turian fork equivalent.

"Here I was trying to be serious. I take it that means you're feeling better?"

"Yes. Thank you so much Garrus," she replied quietly taking the hint.

"I was not going to let you go, Ada. I wasn't there the last time something like this happened, and I feel guilty because of it. And to answer your question, yes. I did."

The first part melted her heart and but second part intrigued her… What?

"Um… really?"

"Why are you so interested all of a sudden?" he dodged.

"Because it's my job to tease you about these things, Garrus," and hope that you actually mean it. "You'd probably ask me the same thing if you went to sleep clothed and woke up in just your underwear."

"You're right. I might have to take you up on that."

Ada choked on her glass of juice. Smug bastard was smirking at her.

"Uncomfortable yet?"

Just turned on, that's all.

"You can't fluster me asshole," she jabbed playfully.

He made a sound that equated to a snort and his mandibles spread in a grin.

"Sure I can't. So," he switched topics quickly, "up for some game hunting today?"

"Really?"

"I should really be asking, do you want dinner tonight or not?"

"Yes. But isn't there some sort of ban on that?"

"Not on our property."

"Dextro or levo?"

Garrus hardened his gaze. She would react poorly to either response: one would mean guilt and the other would mean disappointment. He decided to answer honestly.

"Levo."

Guilt, of course, walked right in and sat on her face.

"So we're both going out to kill something that you can't even eat? That doesn't exactly make me feel good about myself."

"Don't worry about me Ada."

Shepard felt that he said that phrase entirely too much for his own good. He clearly worried about her. However, she felt obligated to return the favor. But there was nothing she could really do so she allowed him to have this one.

"So…"

"Small armory," he answered the question that was on her mind, "if there's one thing us Turians love, it's our guns."

"W-"

"Congratulations Ada, you were about to point out another dirty joke," he mused. She fumed because he was right. Again. One of these days he would actually misconstrue things, but so far she had been far too predictable with sense of humor. She supposed that he had the right to be that smug. She knew a little about Turian Black Ops. At eighteen he was already considered a higher standing Turian than the vast majority of other Turians, including those years older than he. She would be smug as hell if she were in the same position.

"Shall we?"

"Sure," she acknowledged.

Garrus led her to the small armory that lay beneath smooth metal floors of the abode, locked with a vault door.

"In case you ever want in, the password is _domcor_."

"What?"

"Just watch,"

She memorized the exact keys he pressed on the holopad before entering the cramped vault after him. They each picked out weapons. Garrus took a sniper rifle that was nearly as tall as Shepard was, while she opted to take a smaller DMR that would not rip her arm straight off from the recoil. Garrus grinned good-naturedly. The contagious expression soon spread to her as they set out with some additional equipment.

Garrus did not expect to find any sort of catharsis in this expedition. He knew he would not be able to snap his mind of the hunt mentality that he slipped under every time he was after targets. Too much time spent surviving and not enough spent on leisure had branded it onto his brain. He just hoped he could keep it under control and let Shepard actually get her kills.

But, in the event that he fucked everything up, which was likely, he had a long-range target emulator device on his back to replace actual hunting.

Shepard noticed the shift in Garrus as they passed farther into the denser parts of the forest with their weaponry. She caught glimpses of something purely predatory and dangerous and, dare she think it, sexy, in his movements here. Shepard noticed that she could no longer hear his footfalls as she could before. His breathing was completely silent. He slowly vanished into the scenery even though he was standing right behind her.

He stopped at the foot of the tallest damn tree in the forest and looked up.

"Alright," he growled, "I'll provide some overwatch from this tree. There's a clearing about a quarter mile north of here. Your targets will likely be there. I've set a marker on your nav map."

The he jumped _way_ higher than he had on their hike so he could grab the lowest branch on the tree which was still way the hell up there. He disappeared into the thick leaf cover and left her there. She had no idea he could move like that. She really did not want to see him move like that because it meant that he had snapped out of being her friend, and into being her squad mate. Shepard uneasily advanced unto the marker he had located for her.

She felt so alone on her way to the marker. It was like she had suddenly been placed on a completely foreign planet with no one there to protect her and every unknown there to work against her.

Shepard reached the clearing and spotted a pack of gazelle-like animals standing around grazing. She felt a little uncomfortable taking the life of an animal, perhaps a little more than she should. Still, she set down her gear and unfolded the bipod on the DMR. She took aim at the smallest gazelle she could spot and was about to pull the trigger when Garrus' voice interrupted her.

"Ada, you've got a curious-looking panther about twenty meters behind you," Ada froze and turned her head around. He was correct, there was a large black-furred predator slinking around in the bushes behind her edging closer to her position.

"So you can either put it out or I can have some fun," how Garrus could sound so nonchalant about it frightened her. That thing was huge, and she was extremely on edge. There was no way she could fight that thing let alone run from it assuming it gave chase. _Fun_. Shepard had not really expected this when they left the cabin earlier. She had just assumed that everything would go completely smoothly.

She dared not aim her rifle and shoot; for it would likely just anger the creature rather than kill it.

"Sit tight," she heard before he cut his comms. She watched the beast's ears perk up as it seemed to hear something. Then it frantically looked around in multiple directions, confused, growling defensively. Shepard raised her eyebrows. Another predator, almost too fast to spot rocketed from the tree tops and slammed into the far larger quadruped below. Shepard stared, wondering where the hell Garrus was.

Turians were famous for their "two ways to relieve stress," but no one seemed to know about the third: "Kill: like the vicious feral predators Turians really were." He really needed this because his celibacy was almost guaranteed with Shepard around, and despite her proficiency in hand-to-hand, he found that sparring with her only amounted to misfired foreplay, which did nothing to ease stress. His mind was lost in the haze of the hunt for a moment as he descended upon the beast threatening his mate. He was at least decent enough to use the combat knife and not his talons

The thing was down in a flash of an alloy and plasma combat blade. Garrus finally came to.

"Sorry about that, Ada."

"That's fucked up, Garrus."

Shepard was partially teasing but also partially telling the truth. She could not believe her eyes as more and more of the Black Ops Garrus took her best friend away from her. He simply grinned as if nothing was out of place.

"Dinner," he said humorously, bringing her Garrus back.

Ada shook her head and focused back on the animal she was supposed to kill. They were all gone.

"Sorry Ada," he keened sitting down next to her, "I fucked up again. I had a hunch that I would shoot myself in the foot for the hundredth time so I prepared some holo-targets. I'm sorry I can't stop being an ass."

Garrus' heart was stopping and his blood was freezing over. The last time this had happened he had the first nightmare; the one that topped all others in realism and intensity. He was terrified.

She was about to make a snarky comment but something about his tone snapped her jaw tightly shut. Ada knew he was referring to the shooting-range deal six months previously. She could tell he was actually more devastated by his mistake than she was, and wondered what was going on in his head. He had gone from sexy-predator-Black Ops Garrus to normal Garrus to extremely scared Garrus. That was too many shifts in a short period to time to be healthy.

What really got her was how his hand shook as he pressed some buttons on his omni-tool to pop the targets. If the panther eyeing her had put her on edge then this was really freaking her out.

"Garrus, what's wrong?"

"Uh… Should I answer that honestly?"

Shepard raised her eyebrows, wondering what kind of question that was supposed to be.

"Yes?"

He was quiet for a moment which was even worse than before.

"That prepare for disappointment. I… um… I would love to talk about it, just not right now."

"About what?"

"Not right now, please."

He said please. Garrus never pleaded but he sure as hell was pleading now.

"Garrus you're scaring the shit out of me," she murmured.

"Just…" he picked up his sniper with one arm and nailed the farthest holo-target at five km without giving it any thought, "don't worry about me."

There it was again. The same _fucking phrase_. Shepard could not stop worrying about him after that episode. She shook her head, shouldered her DMR, and fired off a few rounds. Most hit close or dead center, a little worse than usual, but she brushed it off as simply being out of practice and continued to purge herself of the negativity with each projectile sent downrange. She noticed him finally pick up his sniper and hit the center of his targets every single time.

Shepard continued to think about his apparent condition and problems while they fired off their shots in silence.

* * *

Oracle got the distinct impression that Val had omitted the most important parts of her dream. She had spilt the words as if from memory then all of a sudden she had paused to actually think about something. Obviously he would not press her for more information, but he guessed that she considered it too inappropriate or questionable to relive through words.

The first thing he had done upon returning to the Nostrom residence was head towards his room to shower off and catch some sleep, but the migraine upon reaching her room followed by the obscenity from her had halted his plans. He was tired as Night, but Val, as his "hypothetical" mate, took complete precedence over anything else besides work, which included sleep.

He found himself analyzing her strange behavior when she had awoken violently and he had stepped in to comfort her. Suddenly she had become far more affectionate than usual, desiring his intimate proximity even though they were not mated. She did this every time she had nightmares, but this one in particular had been _desperate_, like he was not going to stay there if she did not hold onto him.

The seed of a hope that she may reciprocate his feelings was planted in that moment, because he realized that the loss she had experienced in the dream, the loss that had moved her so, was the loss of him.

He absentmindedly started cooing as she slept, hoping that she could pick up the cool vibrations. He knew he was not technically qualified to do most of the things he did around her without first being mated to her, but he did not really have any choice.

He remained kneeling by her side, forcing himself to stay awake for the duration of her sleep despite his own want of sleep. Four hours later she awoke as the light began to stream in through the auto-darkening windows.

"_Good morning Val,_" he greeted. She "yawned," as she called it and stretched her arms.

"_Good morning_, Vael'en," her hands flew to her mouth and immediately her eyes glazed over. His might as well have in addition, because he once thought that her program made her voice beautiful. His euphoria was interrupted by another migraine as his lenses nearly popped out of their sockets.

He saw a similar sight as he had once before: Fallen Light replaced Val, electric blue markings burning and irises alight. The angel leaned forward and pressed her lips to his and he _felt it_. He flew back in shock and stared blankly as the vision disappeared as fast as it appeared. Air was rushing through his air channels like a vacuum.

Val recoiled in surprise as he drew back from her quickly after she said his name. That kind of reaction meant that she had said something completely wrong, or her true voice was so hideous that he could not stand to be that close anymore. Her happiness of success quickly turned into depression.

"_Was it me? Did I ruin your name?"_

"No! No, not at all. Just I saw… a vision. You know I do occasionally. Sometimes they disturb me," he explained.

"_Must have been pretty goddamn disturbing_," Val muttered. Oracle did not respond.

"I apologize if I alarmed you, _Val_," his subvocals continued to punctuate his apology. Hers, whether she could control them or not, accepted his offerings even before she spoke.

"_It's okay. I forgive you_ Vael'en," he suppressed a shiver as he expected another vision but none came. Just like before, he would have to learn to desensitize himself to the sound of her voice. He could put off pent up emotions now, but he knew it would bite him in the ass later. In any case, he was unbelievably happy that it was _his name_ she could speak with her true voice before any other word. Well… not quite his real name.

He could still remember the night she accidentally… said it.

"_Breakfast?_" he offered, trying to think about other things.

"_Yes please._"

* * *

Just to clarify: I needed to get Garrus' issues and insecurity out into the mix so they could be on a level playing field. Remember: Ada is not the only one with issues right now. Their hunting trip thing is bullshit, I know, but they needed something to do so... just bear with me here.


	13. Preparations

I have been granted some free license with biology :)

Finally getting things to move along here.

* * *

Garrus stopped shooting before she did in hopes that she would not notice him draw his combat knife and quarter some cuts of meat from the dead creature. He left most of the body for the other animals in the area like the observant predator he was. He stuffed the fresh cuts into a small cooler he had brought with him.

Shepard ran out of rounds shortly after.

"Ready to return?" he asked.

"Good God, Garrus, you think you could have gotten any more blood on your clothing?" Shepard mused.

He just noticed. Normally, he would just ditch the soiled clothes so that the blood would not attract attention to him, but he was not exactly prepared to deal with walking around in the forest in cold temperatures with nothing more than underwear on. Plus he did not want to waste his nice overcoat when he could simply wash it later and keep it. He would just have to be wary of more predators.

"Probably," he returned, "but that's just how you know it's good."

"That's gross, Garrus."

"I'm sure you'll take those words back when you try it."

"I'm going to hold you to that," she said. There was still a great deal of tension between them. Shepard was dawning on the realization that Garrus was not as well as she thought him to be, and that he was repressing a great deal for her sake. She did not see that as helpful, because it only made her feel extra guilty about her own condition. He was doing so much for her and she was giving nothing back.

Shepard remembered how reserved he was about Black Ops when he had returned. His description of the one mission as "difficult" communicated so much more than he perhaps knew. Nothing was difficult for Garrus, physically at least, so that really narrowed it down to the mental strain he must have faced. Garrus had a sound stomach, he had to for the sake of Black Ops, so if even he classified it as "difficult…" The thought made her shudder. Her family was dead but Garrus had likely seen things more traumatic than she would ever have the capacity for.

They went back to silence and occasional jabs once they returned to the cabin. Garrus concluded their day with a mouthwatering steak from the animal he had killed earlier.

"It's still gross Garrus, but I love it," she masked her frustration.

"I'll take that as a compliment," he said before biting into his own completely different and boring looking dinner. She was eating a sirloin cut, and he was having what looked like water soup. Her fingers clenched and unclenched under the table.

Garrus was starting to feel as if this whole excursion was not that good of an idea; they both had too many problems that were unable to be healed at the same time. She knew too much now and she was growing too concerned with his problems to be healthy.

He only had to hold out just a little longer and then he would spill everything; but until then, he had to work to make her forget. Little things he could change would turn her guilt to dust and her worries to simply breaths of air. A master tactician at heart, Garrus knew just how to plan out his course of action.

"Would you like to watch a vid?" he suggested.

"Sure."

"Alright, you can pick something out and I'll get us something to drink. Be right back."

Shepard scrolled through the picks and found an action-romance that she hoped he would enjoy as much as she. Garrus was in to that kind of thing, even though he did not directly express it. However, he also did not hide it.

Garrus returned with a hot chocolate for her and something sweet-smelling and steaming for him

"Can I try that?"

Garrus was shocked for a moment before gathering his bearings.

"Um… what?"

"Your drink smells nice, may I try some?"

"You know its-"

"Dextro. Yah I know, but I don't have any allergies and it smells really good Garrus, you have no idea."

"Alright, whatever you say."

Shepard accepted the cup from his hands and sipped from the surface. Grapes and honey was how her olfactory and taste sensitive organs described the drink to her mind. Dextro be damned it was tasty as hell.

"That's really good, holy shit," she took another sip, larger, savoring the full feeling it gave her as the slightly viscous liquid rolled down her throat.

"I could make some more for you," he suggested.

"I don't want to rob you here, Garrus, and you _did_ make me a hot chocolate which smells equally amazing, so I'm good."

"If you ever need anything, just let me know."

Shepard needed _him_, but telling him so would yield poor results.

He started the vid and they did their best to ignore their own emotions.

* * *

Val Shepard gained the ability to control the uppermost subvocals a month after they had been installed. Her Sicarian was still completely unintelligible without the other layers, but at least she could say his name with all layers. Oracle himself continued to improve his English and began to turn her emulator into a legitimate translator, one which could parse a sentence, translate, and spit out a grammatically correct version in the other language.

Oracle had received a very shocking yet life-changing update sometime during that month: the core from Val's starship had been successfully studied, replicated, and incorporated into designs for a new breed of Sicarian faster-than-light cruisers. He granted more funding to build a flagship fleet with which they would enter the galaxy. His scales shifted in anticipation.

As for the pistol, they found traces of the same eezo technology within the mechanism, but tests showed that their own weaponry was far stronger and more efficient than the small arm. However, they took inspiration from the device and incorporated elements of its design into more advanced versions of their current weaponry.

The design committee on the monument to be constructed had come up with an appropriate layout and structure. A large and majestic spire four hundred meters in height would be built aimed in the direction her pod had arrived. The base would be hollow, creating a cavernous indoor space to house the pod itself and provide a museum-like viewing context to the public. The land around the clearing was to be subjected to terraforming which would keep the fauna from entering the premises and provide a safe environment for younger Sicarians. The river that ran though the Nostrom residence would break off and fill a large pond on the property. Val's mother and father were to be buried underneath the monument marked by plaques inscribed in both English and Sicarian in their honor.

At the end of the month they went in to see the doctor about her "implants," which really amounted to seeing how much of her was different from the last time they checked her. The doctor found what he had expected to find; a higher concentration of Sicarian DNA in her bloodstream. A larger percentage of her muscle tissues were in the process of altering. A scan of her nervous system revealed that her mind was moving away from her brain._ She was on the dawn of superconscious_. Oracle shuddered. He knew this was just the tip of the iceberg, and it would only get worse for him.

Val had noticed a dramatic increase in her strength in the past month. Her maxes had gone up every day kilogram by kilogram. She could see that the muscles beneath her skin were beginning to show a little more than they had before, much like her sister's build. Something was definitely different with her body than before, because she had never changed as fast before. She guessed that it was due to the planet's higher gravity or possible some ingredient in the food that acted like a weak steroid.

Val finally expended most of the supplies from the pod which made her nervous. In a few _years_ she would be completely out. She did not know enough about female Sicarians to know if they had… monthly visitors, and the thought of having to explain it to Vael'en was off-putting. It would still be some time before her supply ran out.

Her hair had not been cut since she arrived two months beforehand, but it had not grown out at all. It stayed the same shoulder-length at which she had always maintained it. Perhaps it was just a side-effect of using the scaleshine, but the hair on her skin seemed to be vanishing.

When he left, she continued to have nightmares centered on the subject of losing Vael'en. As much as she wanted to simply be friends with him in hopes of finding a life back home with another Human, her apparent subconscious want for him kept telling her otherwise. She convinced herself that she was not proper mate-material for someone of his caliber anyway, and that her wants were misplaced. She reigned in her emotions so she would not give him the wrong idea.

Val Shepard, like the independent and strong-minded creature she was, continued to deny that he felt anything for her despite the signs shoving themselves into her face.

They continued to teach each other everything they could about their histories and cultures given their limited but expanding vocabularies. Vael'en began to expand her knowledge on Sicarian anatomy, but kept it very limited. She offered her help learning human anatomy but he said he had gleaned that information from her omni-tool and scans they had to perform during her surgery. Val could pick something up; something was telling her that he was keeping information from her.

Ordinarily that would not fly with her, but the same sense was also giving her the impression that the information he was holding back was for her own good. This magical source gave clarity to his actions as benign and agreeable. Val was confused by this. She should be asking about his lies by omission, but that one "something" was keeping her from finding any fault. She grew a little paranoid that maybe they had implanted her with more than just what they said they had. Her trust eroded a little each time she thought about it.

Despite that, she grew more and more dependent on Vael'en's presence to feel normal, as if he were an addictive drug. She felt sick when he was not around and better than usual when he was. Unfortunately, this only made the small fissure between them widen. There was no way those could have been her own sentiments; she wrongly suspected him of slipping something into her meals.

Oracle could sense her paranoia, and there was little he could do to remedy that. He did his best to ease the tension, but her self-generated feelings were coincidentally self-sustaining. He would have to come clean soon or risk losing her forever.

* * *

Garrus' strategy had paid off to some extent, and soon enough Shepard appeared more ate ease around him as he hoped. With his own problems completely unattended to, he mended her broken spirit. As their monotonous schedule continued, he grew more and more anxious. He could feel her finally letting go and just about on the verge of revealing something ground-breaking.

Ada Shepard was sick of keeping herself in the dark. Before, she could just stay content with the fact that Garrus was this epic god who she could fantasize about without risking much. Now, however, she was unable to satisfy herself without giving herself away. She was smart, she had to be top in her class to get into Anderson, so she knew how good the Turian sense of smell was. Any hint of arousal and she would be a goner.

Or just very embarrassed. In fact, recognizing a patter as of late, Garrus would probably misconstrue it and think it prompted by someone else. That would only make things worse.

She enjoyed their days hiking through the chilly wilderness, charting the uncharted and discovering hidden beauties. Sometimes they sparred, and that was nearly always a disaster for her. She would start out doing fine and end up having to restrain herself from tearing Garrus' thin sparring pants off and running her lips all over his markings. Sparring was supposed to relieve stress, not augment it.

Garrus seemed to be more anxious as time went on which conflicted with the way he was apparently recovering from his own nightmares. Ada had almost forgotten about his issues as well as her own guilt around him, the recent excursions had been wonderful remedies, but she could pick up his behavior easily. She knew him well enough to know his mannerisms and his nervous ticks. Whereas before he had been disturbed, he had changed into edgy.

Shepard let it slide; he was probably just anxious because his deadline as approaching when he would have to return to the grueling work of Black Ops.

Days were busy with some sort of outdoor activity, nights were quiet and relaxing. Shepard waved a painful goodbye to the version of herself that could touch Garrus without setting him off. She slowly welcomed the strength she needed.

"Can you tell me about your squad?" Shepard asked.

Garrus sighed, remembering that he had not kept in touch with how they were doing for the two and a half weeks they had been on leave so far. He would check his omni-tool for messages once he finished talking with Shepard.

"Sure. Any specific questions you would like me to answer, or just… go into it?"

"I guess you could start with names and a short description."

"Alright. Mine is a squad of six including me as the leader. We have two marksmen, a savant analyst, a tactician, an infiltrator, close quarters master. Intera Levisian is the other sniper in the squad; she's amazing with a sniper rifle or DMR and gives me a run for my money. Where I'm a tactician, she's an analyst and can spot little things and patterns through a scope from kilometers away."

Ada began to have regrets, because she was certainly burning with jealousy that Garrus held admiration for another Turian of the female sex.

Garrus could smell her scent a little more than usual which could mean a few things. But specifically when mentioning his approval of another female it probably meant jealousy. He reserved his excitement as another misconception of her emotions but the beginnings of confidence were rooted then. He just had to continue to talk about the females in his squad like he was interested in them and gauge her reaction. A true friend would be completely fine that he was surrounded by worthy matches but a lover would be uneasy on the subject and probably fake emotions to disguise the true ones.

He kept his wits about him and continued.

"Nihlus Kryik is our tactician. He's got a cool head, doesn't say much, and prefers to think things through before making impulse decisions. In most cases, at least. He knows logistics so well that he can usually predict what is and is not necessary for a plan to work without running simulations. He's a killer on the battlefield, all of my squad are. Taera Castus is our infiltrator. Mmm… she's like a goddess of hand-to-hand; she can nearly kick my ass. She's _fast_ on her feet. Where other Turians would laugh in disbelief," he remembered to use the first name, "Taera can get in to any installment given almost any entry point, and get out before anyone knows what hit them."

His plan was working out well. Shepard was clearly flustered even though she was trying to hide it. He had noticed her shift uncomfortably exactly twice during his description and her eyes wander downwards four times. That was convincing evidence for his hopes. His confession to her would be so much easier with the leverage he was gaining here, even if it was unfairly exploiting her.

"Our hand-to-hand master is Koris Reventus. He's a beast and he can kick my ass into the ground in a sparring match. He may not be as strong as Nihlus or I, but he's as fast as Taera and can still certainly send anyone flying across the ring if he wants to."

Garrus wound up for the hardest hit, Aliva Victus. He knew the most about her of any of the squad and their friendship was far tighter. They were not mates, but they could easily have been had their affections been unreserved. Garrus and she practically shared command and the rest of the squad respected her word as much as Garrus'. She was amazing, but she was not Shepard.

"The most capable and respected of our squad, aside from me of course, is Aliva Victus. There's nothing she cannot do, but her ability to analyze data for patterns is unparalleled. Aliva is also our combat pilot. She can bend whatever vehicle she controls to her will like it's an extension of herself. She's saved our asses more times than I can count. We would be dead if not for her, especially on the last mission."

How was she supposed to live up to that? Garrus rarely spoke with such breathless admiration towards anyone, but clearly this Aliva Victus was perfect in his eyes, an archangel of virtue, and a savior. It was evident that he was enamored with her; how could he not be? This apparent spirit among Turians could give him everything she could not.

Shepard's plan to confess did not seem like such a good one anymore. It would be like confessing to a wall that she loved it, and then running face first into it. She knew it was not his fault she was getting so bent out of shape. After all, she had walked headfirst into this through her own prompting and now she would have to live with the consequences.

Shepard effectively took a few steps back in her recovery, her sentiments began to get the better of her.

Garrus observed with the eyes of a predator. Her heart beat was erratic, he could her it pounding through her chest. Her lungs had convulsed twice, only barely. Garrus had seen all he needed to, but he had to be sure. He would wait until two weeks from the end of their trip to tell her everything. That would give him plenty of time to plan it out. He required perfect timing and setting, both of which he would have to search around for.

* * *

Val gained free reign over her remaining subvocals and supervocals three months later. She had not been expecting the change to be overnight, but after yet another nightmare in which she sobbed out perfect Sicarian to the dying figure of Vael'en, calling him "Oracle" in place of his name for whatever reason, she woke up crying and continuing her speech as if nothing had changed. Luckily, Vael'en was in Vir'atras directing operations and nowhere near her when she whispered "I need you Vael'en" with all of her subvocals crying out in fear, sadness, guilt, and repressed love.

Keeping him in the friend zone was increasingly difficult. Her journal became her best friend as she confessed her emotions to it. The Sicarian holo-tool allowed for her to write text three-dimensionally. The concept was hard to understand at first, but she could no longer go back to writing on a "flat sheet," which completely lacked the versatility and expression of positioning and literally shaping sentences in space.

The prospect of returning home did not really excite her as much as it used to. Sicarians had it far better than the rest of the galaxy. According to their history, they had first discovered electricity around ten thousand years prior, broken every physical barrier possible with the exception of light, and continued to improve their technology more and more every year.

Over the course of those three months Val had vastly expanded her knowledge on Sicarian culture and history thanks to the massive wealth of information present on her holo-tool. And despite the huge amount of knowledge, there was a gaping lack of the more nuanced information. Anatomical charts were limited, as if the full versions were simply not available to the general public.

However, she could remember exactly her thoughts when she had quite accidentally discovered the average length of male and female Sicarian tongues. Seventy-six centimeters male and eighty-two female.

_Seventy-six centimeters_.

Her thoughts had not been as they probably should have; she should have found that extremely disgusting and alien. Horrifying. Disturbing. But no, Val, who had begun to develop needs, was thinking about something entirely different for a split moment _before_ thinking that it was disgusting and alien. She wanted to stop thinking about it but then she read more.

The tips of their tongues had anywhere ranging from one to three long and slender tooth-like fangs which were used to inject neurotoxins as both an attack and defense mechanism. Val remembered the first Sicarian she had ever laid her eyes upon had jumped on the large creature and whipped its… tongue… out, striking like a rattlesnake. _That_ was enough reason for her to keep him the friend zone.

She was about ready to put the file away out of repulsion when she read: "Sicarians secrete a range of neural agents in their glands. The gland that produces neurotoxin is the largest and most commonly used. However, another gland secretes an anesthetic. For this reason, medical Agents often have far larger and more potent anesthetic glands. A third produces an endorphin that acts as a nerve stimulant; this gland is only active during sexual encounters and is used to augment the pleasure of the mate."

Her mind kept seeing the words "endorphin," "sexual encounters," "augment pleasure." Something rolled down her chin which snapped her from the daze. She passed her hand across her mouth and was shocked to find herself _drooling_.

She closed down the anatomy information quickly, more afraid of what she might find out about herself, and moved on to other topics.

Five times during the three months she had taken the initiative to eat with Vael'en's parents when they were on leave. Each time talking with them had felt much easier and much closer to the dynamic she could still perfectly remember with her family. They were friendly and open-minded, seemingly without prejudice or judgment that she was a different species, and not particularly adhered to any strict etiquette. They cracked jokes, laughed, smiled, smirked; they were young at heart. They constantly told Val how much they admired her dedication, determination, and bravery throughout the ordeal she was going through.

They complemented her abilities to speak and understand Sicarian as well as reproduce Sicarian subvocal-only expressions such as gratitude or friendliness.

The fifth time they had met up to eat Val could finally read Alan and Hannah Shepard into them. The Nostrom family may have lived in an enormous extravagant mansion, but they were the opposite of arrogant and never abusive of their status. They treated their maintenance and service staff members as equals and never gave orders; just requests. Val thought back to the percentile system and how that really seemed to clear things up.

Although, Val noticed something in the way they spoke to her, as if they were approving of her. The context for their approval was still a mystery so she just took it as complementary.

After five months at the Nostrom residence, Val started to feel the monotony of her life sink in. She had been around the entire property multiple times, marveling at its beauty of course, but she wanted to get out and see the city; the world. She wanted to interact with more than just the staff members, who were all older than she. Or so she thought. Vael'en could always convince her that staying inside the household was for her own good, however. She agreed that the she was not quite ready to make new acquaintances.

She enjoyed their monthly trips to the doctor more than she should. The building they visited was really goddamn tall, which gave her a wonderful view of Vir'atras – whose name literally meant "the thriving capital of life and progress" – the capital city of the entire planet.

The visits would always go exactly as the last: they would take a small blood sample from her and pass a scanning device over the back of her neck and upper chest. Vael'en and the doctor whose name she had yet to learn would exchange quick and quiet words before he would take her back home.

The most recent visit felt different. A whisper was telling her that something was off.

* * *

It was another two months later that Oracle finally decided he knew enough of her language and she his to begin to discuss some of the more personal matters regarding her and her life. Like always, he returned home in the middle of the night to walk in on her in the middle of a nightmare. His heart cords misfired for her. Her budding superconscious was dumping her emotions into the air making the feelings even more vivid and intense. She talked more about what she dreamt about but kept leaving out information. He supposed he was no better.

The last visit to the medic had been quite a shock, and it had been difficult to hide now that she could pick up subvocals so well, and to an extent, feel the ambiences of the situation. The doctor had pointed out a tiny little sliver of skin on the back of her neck where she would never see it, under which a high concentration of modified oxyluciferin had collected and stopped up.

"Is that what I think it is?" Oracle was on edge of his emotions.

"It is. Although there are currently no nerve bundles to control it. And would you like know something else?"

"Would I?" he was not sure this development could get any "better."

"Scans indicate that they will light blue: 460 nm approximately."

_NO._ Oracle clenched his fists and used every ounce of willpower to keep everything about him under control. If _that_ continued to trend as her muscle tissues had, then he would be unable to resist any more than he was; assuming she ever flared them. He would be reduced to begging.

"I will return later, doctor, I have some more questions that I want to discuss in private."

"Very well."

With that he took Val back to the Nostrom residence and settled down in her now permanent room to spend time with her asking and answering questions.

Her ability to speak Sicarian was increasing greatly every day. He guessed that she would have achieve mastery of their language within the next year and a half, about when he predicted his own mastery of English. He could still hold a conversation with her; a rather sophisticated conversation.

He mentally prepared himself to talk with her about what happened with her mother, that they had found her father and brought him down as well, and how they were planned to receive a proper burial.

* * *

Garrus and Shepard parted as they headed off to their rooms to fall asleep.

As he had promised himself, Garrus checked his omni-tool for messages. He had two messages, just two. He read through them and sighed. In the weeks after his scheduled leave and before returning to service in Alfa Dexteras he was to attend two back-to-back bonding ceremonies as a speaker for the two pairs in his squad. Castus and Kryik were to be mated first, followed a week later by Levisian and Reventus. He replied to both saying that he was available and would happily oblige in speaking. He had plenty to say about how they were perfect matches for one another. He would not even have to bullshit anything; they were legitimately good matches, gemstones among refuse.

The messages were attached with ticketing information for travel and overnight stay, as well as some useful information on location. There ceremonies would be small; just the immediate families of the mates-to-be. He thought it convenient that they had chosen to stay low key; large ceremonies were far too stressful.

After taking care of that bit of business he turned his focus back upon Shepard. He analyzed her behavior during the recount of his squad mates just to satisfy his own anxieties. He could still not be certain that she _loved_ him. He desperately hoped that he was not misconstruing things again.

Doubts started to burble up in the pit of his gut. Perhaps she had been so shifty because discussing his squad mates reminded her of what she had lost, or that she missed her friends, or that she would have to return to Anderson and fend for herself once again. He groaned. He knew that he had to maintain his confidence and tell her, but the prospect of rejection and embarrassment beyond comprehension was not exactly spurring him on.

He cursed himself. If Shepard really did have a secret attraction to him then he as approaching everything wrong. The most important step would be for her to validate his interest on her own.

Garrus really should just have asked her out a few times and put his advances extremely forward instead of sneak around and connive like he currently was. His approach right now was so unconventional and unorthodox that it was making what should have been simple almost impossible. However, Garrus was a master of the unorthodox. He knew he would figure out a way to set up for the likely rejection.

Garrus could just recall Shepard's scent as he drifted off to sleep. He swore each time he breathed in that he could actually smell it.

* * *

Shepard was still sulking. Garrus barely could have made his attraction to this goddess Turian of his any clearer than he had. The lies she had fed herself about how right it felt to simply lie quietly in his arms, forget the world, and pretend that they were locked in a lover's embrace haunted her. All of those occasions had been purely platonic.

That did not mean she could not fantasize. With the recent crash she had some more fuel for her loins: that wonderful position on the couch in which he had lain beneath her, holding her tenderly in his arms with the blanket wrapped around them. Her fingers twitched and she gave in as they trailed lower to provide a lewd substitute for she imagined he might feel. She was still a virgin so she stayed wary, not wanting to _break_ anything yet.

She stayed as quiet as she could and hoped that he would not be able to smell her through the walls.

* * *

Oracle returned after settling her down back at the Nostrom residence to question the doctor about Val's changes.

"Greetings, Oracle," his Agent welcomed.

"Hello Sevist," Oracle returned to his friend.

"If I recall, you have questions about her? I have to warn you; we know very little about these changes. I and a team of scientists are currently studying the transformation but there is a lot we cannot predict."

"Just tell me what you know, and what you think you know, please. I can watch out for these changes in between our visits."

"Alright. She won't magically change into a Sicarian, but she will start to At the rate she is changing, we expect to see her muscle system completely change to push-pull, instead of just pull. The tissue will be Sicarian type rather than Hum'an type, so she could, in theory, be as strong as you or I. All you will notice is that her muscles become slightly more pronounced beneath the skin. She will grow; we predict 1.9 meters will be about when she stops. We have not seen changes in her bone make-up, but we expect to. Her… um… fringe on her head will shorten to about neck length and then maintain there. Her body hair will disappear completely. We are not sure about the fringes on her eyelids or above them."

Oracle nodded slowly, taking in all the information.

"And the oxyluciferins?"

"We have only theories, but the fact that her system has even begun to produce them is… endearing. Our hypothesis is that it will spread to form a unique Sicarian sub-dermal marking pattern. In addition, we guess that her superconscious will develop into one equivalent to the average Sicarian."

Oracle cringed.

"This is bad," he said without thinking.

"What is bad, Oracle?"

Sevist was a close family friend, he could reveal his badly kept secret.

"Have you not seen it? I trust her. I love her."

Sevist was shocked for a moment before pulling himself together. He did not find it disgusting, he did not taunt or jab, he did not judge.

"I am so sorry Oracle. I am afraid… I am afraid there is nothing we can do to reverse these changes. We can slow them-"

"No," Oracle blurted, interrupting, "apologies. Let her change. I think it is my only hope."

"Right. We hope for you Oracle. Perhaps these changes will allow her to develop trust in you. Perhaps it will be strong enough for your metajoint to sense it."

"Thank you Sevist."

"Always a pleasure, Oracle."

* * *

Oracle had taken a great deal of time to prepare. He wanted to be sure that he spoke about the subject of her family in the most tender and considerate possible way. He had brushed up on some additional vocabulary relating to the subject in preparation to speak about it in English, her native tongue. He wanted to speak with mostly in English because he felt that giving at least one sign of dedication to her culture would dignify the instability of the topic. Also he felt obligated to honor her parents' memory by speaking so.

He sighed, a mannerism that he had picked up from her, as he stood and made last-minute promises to himself to go through with this discussion at all costs. He would not enjoy it, and if she rejected him because of it then at least he could die knowing he was not a complete monster. A monster still, but not a _complete_ monster.

Oracle slowly rose to his feet and left his room, took a few steps to reach her door and knocked.

"Please come in," he heard her call with her voice made from solid ambrosia. He had never quite gotten used to it the way he had with her emulator.

He pushed the door open and slowly entered, making sure it clicked shut behind him as he sauntered over to sit next to her on the couch.

She was smiling, but he could feel her inner turmoil. It was far different than that which he remembered from her first nights there. She did not _trust_ him. He knew she was noticing changes because, after all, it was her body. He knew she was misconstruing the changes as forced rather than accidental. He _knew_ that she thought he was to blame for this; somehow slipping some magical drug into her food or drink that would turn her into a Sicarian.

"_Hey Val,_" he greeted.

"Vael'en," she simply returned, subvocals pronouncing nothing more than neutrality.

"_Listen, Val, now that we have a better understanding of one another, I feel I can finally talk about some of the things that I have wrongfully and guiltily kept from you,"_ he confessed. Her subvocals trilled, possibly against her intentions. He had her full attention; he also had her full wrath.


	14. Confessions

Sorry for the late release (lol at my dirty sense of humor).

* * *

Garrus waited impatiently for time to set him in the right place to make his move. He had lost a great deal of his confidence after he had run her through more tests and each time she had not risen to the bait. He felt a little worried that she may have picked up his tests and misconstrued them. The only endearing factor was that she reacted predictably, if only barely.

The monotony was interrupted when they flew back in to Cavasta for more supplies to last the remaining four weeks. He had done exactly what he knew human males did to court their females: take her to dinner. Unfortunately for him, his overt flirting and mind games were already associated with him, so Shepard barely saw any change other than possibly strange behavior.

Ada Shepard noticed Garrus acting a little weird but brushed it off. He was a little more flirtatious than he" usually" was, but that was because he was Garrus Vakarian, number one bad-ass in the galaxy. He flirted with anyone and it was harmless. Shepard would not make the mistake of misconstruing his actions again. But what was really strange was the way he seemed to be engineering his sentences and topics to fit a criterion. She just could not figure out what it was or why he was doing it.

He took to her to a nice restaurant almost like a date. He had to be playing her; the cuts from that description of his squad mates still inflicted pain as they bled slowly. She might not even believe him if he came out and just told her that he was desperately and hopelessly in love with her. It would be a funny joke, one of his ruses, because she would be unable to fathom such a thing. It did not make any sense for a Turian to fall in love with a Human. That did make her a hypocrite, she knew it, but it was _different_ in her case for some reason.

The dinner they had was good; for once she did not have to feel guilty that he was making her something that he himself could not eat. Shepard ordered a steak and Garrus had ordered some _alive_ slug things which he praised as amazing. Shepard supposed she could understand how they might be appetizing. Most humans would have ejected the contents of their stomach at the sight, but she had been around the Vakarian family enough to see this kind of thing often. They preferred live food for its nutritional advantages.

Garrus seemed a little off-put as they left. He was trying to keep to himself, but Shepard could read it from his body language. She wracked her brain. He always had a good reason to feel a certain way and he usually told her if something was wrong. It was awkward to be so outside of his life, it had been extremely difficult when he first left for compulsory service at fifteen, but now it was like he was still gone.

Shepard felt like whatever he was doing was amounting something.

He had run his camping trip proposal by her a few times but she had respectfully declined each one. Still, every day they went out and saw something new. They memorized the immediate zone surrounding the cabin and charted out numerous trails to new locations.

Both had been surprised to find that there were actually hot springs in the zone. They were fueled by geothermal heat and nestled in the shelter of a gaping arching cavern at the base of the waterfall. The crystal-clear slightly-mineralized water fed in from the main river through a series of smaller pools, each spilling over into the next, until finally the water collected in a fairly large bath of steaming water. It was kept fresh by a constant current as the water continued to spill over one edge and back into the stream.

She was tempted to strip and enjoy the warmth in the midst of the dropping temperatures, but with Garrus around… it would be far too difficult to explain and contain herself. Turians had no qualms about nudity, but she had feeling it was different with him. She refrained from asking.

Garrus surveyed the area. So far she had refused every attempt to get her to agree to the overnight camping trip, which was his context. Time was running out. He would probably just have to do it at the cabin, even though it would not be nearly as romantic as huddling together in the same sleeping bag, relying on the other for warmth.

He was glad she had rejected those requests, because they would likely not have stumbled upon this treasure trove. He knew a great deal about human culture because of Shepard, so he knew that these hot springs held none of the same connotations.

For Turians, hot springs in particular were viewed as incredibly romantic locations for mating. They were warm, shallow, personal, and the warm water softened the plating for a much closer and more comfortable fit. Not to mention they were always in the middle of nature, untouched. The setting aroused primal euphoria that some Turians experienced when completely surrounded by raw environment. Garrus had to clamp his plates down at the thought of taking her here and taking her.

If she refused this time, he would tell her immediately at the cabin and that would be that. If she agreed, then he would bring them back to this location and try his best to confess.

Garrus waited a day before trying again at breakfast.

"Ada, that camping trip is still available if you would like to go through with it. I think you can handle it."

Shepard had almost expected his request. He had really become vehement about the notion of going and sleeping outside where all the predators and beasties were. But Shepard decided to oblige, finally, knowing it would be rectified by Garrus' presence. She had mulled the idea around since he had suggested it the first day, and always found herself on the fence about actually agreeing to it. However, she really would not have another chance. The end of her time with him was rapidly approaching: just a week left before she had to return to Anderson and he to Black Ops.

"Alright, I'll take you up on the offer. But if I get a bug bite Garrus, so help me God and Spirits."

"I'm curious to know what you'll do if you _do _get bit," he said smoothly.

"I don't know… I'll bite you back."

Garrus throat went completely dry. He was not sure if she knew what she was saying or not, but he sure hoped so, because that meant she had understood his advances and was accepting him.

Never before in his life had an accidental assumption proven to be so mutually beneficial. Shepard did know what that meant but not how seriously, and she was simply being flirtatious as he had been for the past few weeks. It was nothing but sexual humor. Neither of them had the slightest idea regarding the other's motives. Both went forth in blissful ignorance.

He blinked.

This was really happening. He was really going to confess and either ruin his life, or mend both of theirs.

* * *

"_I know that you no longer place your complete trust in me, Val, I can feel it. I am so sorry for what I have done to lose that trust_,"

"_But I-_" she began doubting his statement. He held up a hand.

"_I can sense when your true feelings are the opposite of your words, Val. I'm going to start from the beginning and explain. I have prepared for this._"

"_O-okay."_

"_The reason I know so much about you is because your mother made the most important contribution, the ultimate sacrifice. She cared about you, even in death, and gave herself to us for study. I learned your language and your life through her omni-tool,"_ he was keeping his focus everywhere but her, but he still noticed the falter in her breathing.

Val was shocked. They had taken her mother's body to bury her, but apparently they had… _studied_ her. Was she angry really, or did she want to be? He did have a point, Hannah Shepard, her mother, was the reason she was alive and fitting into the Sicarian world. Her sacrifices in life for her children had not stopped with her death. She had brokered peace with the Turians, and she continued her career by brokering peace with a completely undiscovered species. Val would have either been dead by now or far worse-off if Vael'en had not done what he did.

Val could feel his guilt. She could _feel_ his pain as he confessed to her. He did not appreciate keeping everything from her, but there was no easy way to talk before now about such things.

"Vael'en, I can feel your guilt. I forgive you. Please, would you tell me what happened to the body?"

"_We… took her apart and put her back together exactly the way we found her; desecrating a corpse is punishable by death in our culture. We patched the wound in her neck, dressed her in Sicarian burial garments, and conducted a pre-ceremony blessing. We have encased her form inside a… _cryogenics pod _so she will never decay_. _We are constructing a monument at the landing site of the pod in her honor and contributions. As well as yours. And your father's._"

"_You… What?_"

A monument? Her _father_? Val's contributions?

"_A monument, a public park_._ We, by coincidence, found your father aboard you starship and gave him the same respectful treatment as your mother. They are to be buried together. Here is a projection of it when completed._"

Vael'en pulled up a file, expanded the full-color high-resolution hologram to about the size of the table, and set his holo-tool to static projection. Val's eyes roamed around the thing. She eventually grasped the size when she saw a few reference Sicarians milling about in the space.

"_W-why?_" she said breathlessly.

"_Val, do you realize the scale of what you have brought us? You are our first contact with intelligent alien life. We are in debt to you, Val, our whole race is. You have brought us knowledge; entrance into the galactic community that we never knew existed. We have to honor everything about you, Val. _Sicarian-kind _has to know about you and your family's contributions for the rest of time._"

Val knew not how to reply. He had answered a great deal of her questions about what happened after they took her mother away. She was breathless, the weight of billions pressing down on her shoulders as she realized that she, Val Shepard, was the ambassador for all of humanity; for _all _races in the galaxy. And she was only fifteen. It was she who could determine how this new species entered the galaxy.

She was supposed to be offended that they had, perhaps, exploited the deaths of her parents, but they were building them a four hundred meter tall spire and a public park to them. They were being buried together; Val could not have asked for anything more really. The Sicarians did not kill her parents, Batarians did.

Although, they had thoughtlessly obliterated the escape pods… no. She told herself that it had been a misunderstanding and refused to misplace her hate.

She still had questions about the changes she was noticing in herself.

"_I regret to tell you this, Val, but you are changing,_" he looked up at her. This was even more difficult for him to talk about than the previous subject. It was not because he did not know the words, it was because he was stricken.

"You think it is intentional, that I am actively facilitating this."

"_No I-" _actually, that was _exactly_ what she had been thinking.

"_Val,_" he stopped her again, "allow me to explain. _Your single-chiral DNA_ has begun to take on Sicarian _dual-chiral structures_," he used English where he thought she may not understand. He hoped that his heavy accent was not getting in the way of her understanding. Her eyes widened but he kept speaking. "This is due to simply exposure to us. We have done nothing to accelerate or decelerate changes. I…do not… they are not reversible. Your body is built to adapt and it will. We can only slow down the process. But you have grown stronger as a result; your muscles are changing, your bones are changing. You are beginning to develop superconsciousness. I…" he stopped unable to contain the regret he felt.

He certainly would have hated anyone keeping this kind of secret from him.

Val stopped breathing as she thought about what he had said. She was changing into one of them. This was really happening. She knew he felt horrible for not telling her earlier and took pity on him. All of the trust she had lost to paranoia vanished in place of understanding. She could tell that he was placing himself in her shoes, but he did not know her well enough to predict how she would react.

She was pensive, thinking about what it would men if she were to change completely. She was having trouble gauging whether or not she actually minded. She could either chose to have them halt everything and stay more human than Sicarian, or continue and…

"To what extent will I change?"

"You will be taller, stronger, dare I say smarter, but still very much Hum'an."

That actually sounded decent to her. At least she would not be a mutated looking freak.

"What is… su-per-con-scious-ness?" she sounded the unknown word out exactly as she had heard it.

Vael'en shifted before speaking again.

"_The closest description I can think of in English is 'superconscious.' _Sicarians_ don't have brains like humans do, but rather, an extremely dense nervous system that runs throughout the body. If one part gets damaged, it can be repaired without losing memories. But this neural structure is extremely sensitive. It can detect other beings, even plants, and give us information about them. It is how I can sense your emotions and thoughts. It is how I can tell when you are plagued with nightmares_."

Val stiffened, hoping that did not mean he could actually read her nightmares like an open book. Apparently this thing was growing within her and broadcasting her emotions. But it all made sense; how he knew just when to comfort her, how she always felt reassured and safe around him. His "superconscious" was speaking to hers and transmitting those messages. At the same time, it was how he read her and sensed her pain. After all, her superconscious was communicating back.

Hybrid DNA, stronger, smarter… that sounded awful when spoken. She was supposed to be angry. But Val's brain condition had slowly begun to accept these changes as necessary and benign. How could she resist ascending from a lowly human to even a fraction of a far-superior Sicarian?

Did that mean that he and she could… She cut her thoughts. Too ambitious. She would never be good enough for him. There were too many things that she would be unable to provide. Sicarian society did not exactly appreciate a dysfunctional mate. If either a male or female were unable to produce offspring, they were shunned.

She would not allow Vael'en to suffer like that.

* * *

Garrus told her to pack everything she thought she could carry on her back. Ada knew they were just camping out one night so she was not particularly worried about her supplies. She just needed one change of clothing and underwear, some basic toiletries, and her sleeping bag.

Garrus' things were already prepared by the time she finished.

"Are you going to bring a tent?"

"Why?"

"The bugs…"

"Oh don't worry about the bugs. I have more effective means of dealing with them than a tent. But we won't need one where we're going."

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

"I'm not really one for surprises, Garrus."

She saw him stiffed for a fraction of second before continuing to slice through some meat for her sandwich.

"You will like this one, I promise," he said carefully as if unable to believe himself.

"Whatever you say."

She was expecting a snarky reply typical of her friend but none came. Her eye twitched at the abnormality. She recalled his unstableness at the beginning of their trip as well as hers, and how they far they had both come sense then. It seemed like Garrus was going back to the way he had been, nervous and quiet. She could tell it was anxiety. Going back to the source of his problems could be an easy prospect for him.

She frowned. At least his perfect Turian would be there for him.

Shepard headed back into her room to check over her things again, as well as pull on some warmer clothing. The dark clouds in the sky were likely the harbingers of light or heavy snow. She really hoped the site he was thinking off had some kind of wind-break, otherwise it would be almost intolerable. Although, she supposed he had gone through much worse in Black Ops.

She was hopeless, she could not even think of Black Ops without thinking about his likely relationship with that Victus. Garrus had gone through an extremely difficult time and she was jealous of a relationship. She rubbed her temples in frustration; she was a horrible friend. If she really cared about him she would encourage this. She was supposed to be happy that he was happy with someone besides her.

Just every time she tried to adopt that rationale, images of him with another Turian flashed through her mind and made her burn like a star with jealousy. She supposed she really wanted, no _needed_ him with a greater profundity than she ever could have imagined. Only, it did not make sense that she could not let it go. She was Human. She was supposed to be able to move on.

That was the whole fucking point of being part of a worthless, unfaithful, mercurial species.

"You look a bit tense there, Ada," she practically jumped out of her clothing at the sudden intrusion of his voice, "I'm sure hiking for a few hours in the bitter cold so that you can eventually sleep outside in the bitter cold is soothing your thoughts, which are clearly not about the camping trip," he said sarcastically.

He was correct in thinking that her thoughts were not in the slightest related to the camping trip.

"Right," she said without really thinking.

"Don't worry, I'm hot enough for both of us."

"Thanks for the compliment," she said sarcastically.

Her eyes were elsewhere, so she did notice his features drop momentarily before they returned to the mask.

"I try. Are you almost ready to set out?"

"Only if you are."

"Then I take it that means yes. Let's go," he turned and left her room.

She got up from the bed and followed after him.

* * *

"Well, Vael'en, I can feel that you are very nervous about my response thanks to my super-conscious," she still could not quite say the word smoothly, "I am, perhaps, a little distraught that you did not attempt to tell me sooner, but I greatly appreciate your courage and thoughtfulness in telling me. You want to keep our friendship."

Oracle nodded. Lights above she had him in the palm of her hand. Technically that gave her control of the planet. She smiled.

She was _supposed_ to feel angry, opposed, repulsed, disgusted.

But she simply was not. The evidence outweighed any conventions Humanity may have

"I do too. These changes… I think they are for the best," she said carefully. Oracle sat back, relief washing over him and through his entire being like waves.

Val could feel the relief that he was projecting. It was overwhelming; as if his life depended on her to respond correctly to all this. She did not understand what difference it would have made if she had told him that she was not okay with it and that she was angry. Her response did not really hold any weight besides a personal one, and only the cost of their friendship would be paid. It was not like she could just walk out. Vael'en had given her… everything really.

She found it easy to forgive. Humanity was becoming a less significant part of her with each new day.

"_I don't mind, _Vael'en. I forgive you, I really do._ I hope that my superconscious is backing that up_."

"It is," she could tell he was being honest in his words, "I should warn you that it will continue to grow throughout your body. I can help you with some techniques to control it so your thoughts are kept personal when you so desire. Sevist has predicted it will finish development in four years."

"Sevist?"

"Doctor Sevist Coros: The medical Agent who I bring you to see every month."

Val articulated an expression that amounted to "ah, yes," in English.

"I do not understand why you tolerate these changes. I would certainly hate to find out so late."

"I am not you, Vael'en," she said simply.

Oracle felt his shoulders sag. She was right in so many ways that it hurt. He locked down his emotions so she would not feel them this time. But she was also not a Sicarian, as much as he selfishly wanted such a thing, and she would never come close enough for him. He was running on borrowed time. Six years and he would be dead from repressive overload syndrome. Sicarians were simply not evolved to go that long without acknowledgement and consummation.

The very first prophecy, the one that predicted the initial event was still wrong until further notice. He had yet to figure out what the "Cutter of Stars" was supposed to be, and how this "Fallen Light" he had mistaken with Val could love him. Perhaps another was to fall and this had all been a mistake. Although, he could not see how he could possible rip himself from Val after all this time. The only part of the prediction that appeared to be true was the part where he could not fucking live without her.

Val was still wondering what it was that caused her to feel sick when he was gone and better than usual when he sat so close by. The answer would likely come with the continued culture and biology lessons that she was to receive from him. She assumed that it would take quite some time before he actually mentioned anything pertinent to her situation.

Val sighed.

"Thank you for telling me. I admit that I was… _a little paranoid about these things_. I still… _trust you_," she was careful to use the English for trust, which did not carry the same significance because it lacked subvocals.

He still felt disappointed, only not in her. He was disappointed with himself. Obviously there was something she was missing about the dynamics of guilt and lies within the context of Sicarian society. The immediately evident truths told her that they were both seen as highly self-destructive. It did not exactly sit well with her that she was unable to experience the same types of emotions as he.

At least not yet.

They sat in silence for a while. Val developed a headache after a while and it was made worse by the fact that he decided to get up and leave.

"_Meet with me if you want or need anything,"_ he said before shutting the door.

Val was left thinking about how she always found his voice to be so soothing and smooth, even in spite of the obvious pain he was experiencing right now. She had an urge to get up and comfort him, to return the favors that he had provided her, but it felt like a violation of something.

She grasped her head. She was not supposed to want to change like this, but she did. She was not supposed to want someone outside of her race, that was her sister's job, but she did. She wondered how long it would take to convince herself of her own feelings about him.

* * *

Ada Shepard and Garrus Vakarian hiked down to the river and the proceeded along its banks upstream. The location of the hot springs was almost directly under the base of the waterfall from the tallest peak, which was quite a distance from the cabin. Garrus predicted that they would have to stop part way there for lunch before continuing. They would reach the location by sunset. Perfect.

Shepard felt like the path they were taking was familiar but she could not place exactly where it was they were headed. Where ever it was, it seemed to be quite the walk from the cabin. Garrus stopped them on a large, flat boulder to one side of the stream. The sun was balanced in the middle of the sky, exactly midday.

"Lunchtime. We're about half way there," he without the slightly hint of exhaustion.

"Damn," Shepard panted, her body not suited as well as his for this strenuous activity, "you really made sure the location was in the middle of nowhere didn't you?"

He hummed a chuckle which sobered her up a little. He sat down and took out his lunch. Shepard did the same.

"Have to make you work for it. It's going to be worth it," he repeated before biting down on his sandwich.

"An entire day's walk… I better be impressed," she snorted.

"A difficult task: impressing the almight Ada Shepard. Luckily, Garrus Vakarian is up for the challenge and he's pretty confident."

Assuming he did not fuck things up of course, Garrus thought to himself. Shepard's smile and laughter at his usual dry humor really encouraged him. At least, when she rejected him she would have the sensibility to let him down easily, make sure that he did not immediately crash. He could walk away from his leave with a pleasant taste in his mouth and die honorably in privacy later.

Shepard might be devastated by the loss of a friend, but she was human, she could move on from him. It was his cruse to have a bond towards a creature that could never bond back. It was extremely rare, he knew. Only legends existed of Turians that bonded with non-Turians. They were commonly used as examples of why aliens were not to be trusted. Oh well; he was just another example.

He had a few hours left. The sun dropped, counting down the seconds until the beginning or end of an era.

Shepard had a hunch as to where they were going after another four hours of constant hiking. It really was a long trek, but he was right in that it was worth it. Despite the cool temperatures, everything was still warm, green, and alive, as if to remind her that life was a beautiful thing. The water of the stream had yet to freeze over and the sound, in its glorious monotony, was calming.

She remembered her thoughts of suicide when everything had gone to shit and recognized her folly. In the long run it would not have been a good choice when there really were things left to live for, she had just needed time to figure that out. She supposed she had Garrus to thank a great deal; it had been his idea to come out here and relax. She was skeptical that therapy could have even come close to the recovery that she gained by being there, with him and removed from the stresses of society.

Her hunch was confirmed when she recognized the vertical face of the tallest peak on their property looming at them from a few kilometers away. They were going to camp at the hot springs, where there was natural warmth and shelter. Garrus had been right; that was certainly a worth-it location, even if it was only one night.

Shepard was tired and, sweaty despite the wind chill, and cold despite the sweat. She was really contemplating stripping down jumping right on in to one of the hot springs to the let the perfectly-heated water work its magic on her muscles. Garrus would probably be fine with it; after all Turians did not have the same awkwardness towards nudity. Hell, up until they had developed spacefaring vessels thousands of years prior it had been standard procedure not to wear _anything_ while inside one's home.

What she would not give to wait until dark and let him have her in the hot spring.

She was distracted by his voice, in more ways than one.

"Your spine would likely appreciate it if you set down your pack, Ada," he mused.

"My spine thanks you," she replied as she complied and began to unpack her sleeping mat. She laid it as close to his as she could without making it conspicuous.

They were underneath a huge arch of rock whose ceiling was at least twenty meters above them. The archway was open on two sides. One let the water flow into the cascading tiers of hot springs and the other provided an exit route from the largest one at the bottom to the river. The walked up the lower side of the cavern and looked around.

"I suggest we set up over there," he pointed to a moderately sized indent in the rock under which to place their sleeping bags. The floor in the small nook was more or less completely flat and provided some extra space for their gear. The much lower ceiling was still high enough to stand under for her. Garrus had to bow his head slightly.

Garrus pulled a pod from his pack of items and stuck it down off to one corner of their cozy alcove. The dome-shaped thing glowed blue for a few seconds and then dimmed to a quiet shade of amber. That must have been the bug repellent. As if to answer her thoughts he spoke up.

"This is the galaxy's nicest bug shield, straight from Black Ops tech vaults, which can also withstand bullets believe it or not, as well as power a small house indefinitely."

"Sounds like sensitive technology there, Garrus. I guess it would come in handy if the bugs decided to stage an uprising."

"Oh they do, believe me. Some of the planets I've been too…" he shuddered, "let's just say getting shot at in the field is a welcomed relief."

"Damn," she cursed, unable to imagine how bad it really must have been, "I don't even…"

"Exactly. I don't think tonight we'll be having the same problem. This plot of land is pretty docile in terms of insect life."

"Good thing I brought along my Garrus Vakarian," she joked, "the galaxies nicest outdoorsman, suppressor of bug revolutions, who can also withstand bullets believe it or not. Wait, can you power a small house?"

Garrus laughed and Shepard's body twitched at the wonderful sound. She had not heard him laugh with such a carefree aura in what felt like years.

"Maybe. Give me a few minutes and I could figure something out."

Shepard set down the rest of her pack at the head of her sleeping bag and watched quietly as Garrus got out some more supplies. Another pod, shaped like a disc, he set upon a flat surface and turned on. A few rings glowed in the center and then a holographic image of a fire was cast into the space around the device.

"You brought a fake fire place?" Shepard laughed at the absurdity of it.

"Put your hands close to it," he said with a positive shit-eating grin.

Shepard did as he asked and her skepticism was flattened when she found that it was actually hot.

"We move around a lot, we have to stay under the radar, leaving soot trails and smoke is a good way to attract attention. Plus it's dangerous. This is smart; it will cook your food but it will not burn your skin or your tent," he said somewhat seriously. She could just listen to him talk about whatever the hell he wanted to and be satisfied.

"Where can I get this stuff?"

"You can't. Black Ops likes to keep their tech under wraps, which includes physically interactive holograms. I brought some high-calorie, high-sugar, high-protein foodstuffs for dinner. I think Humans call them 'smores.'"

"Are you serious?" she asked disbelieving.

"Only if chocolate, marshmallows, and crackers don't make that up then no, I was only joking."

"That sounds right. Where did you- never mind. I'm more interested to know if Turians have an equivalent."

"Not that we have a hilarious name for. Leave it to Humans."

"Hilarious? I guess so. So this is dinner? Don't usually eat desert for dinner."

"Ada, one of those things would give you the same number of calories as a huge meal."

"But it's not filling,"

Yah that was the whole point, Garrus thought to himself, assuming everything went right.

They went about their fire-side meal rituals, his consisting of assembling what looked like a burrito and then holding that over the fire with a two-pronged fork. They ate with gusto. Shepard was surprised to find that he was right, again. Whatever he packed was probably modified for maximum nutrient value to minimize space taken. Just one sinful sandwich left her satisfied and sated. He looked equally content after downing his tiny meal.

The sun was nearly down, the sky was read, and the archway was completely in shadow. The world outside was bathed in red. The cold set back in, conquering even the fire as the cavern seemed to amplify the winds. Shepard shivered and scooted closer to the fire. Garrus simply sat, reclined, using a rock as a back rest. He was looking intently at the sky, connecting dots in the stars as they emerged.

Shepard loved to see this side of him: the serious yet uninjured side. It was the same attitude he had worn when she first found about the deaths of her parents and sister. She loved the notion of how he could go between this stoicism, witty dry humor, and everywhere in between.

His head swiveled back from the stars to hers. In her daze, both pairs of eyes locked. By the time she realized she was supposed to look away it was too late. Her friend sucked in a breath and then released it slowly, holding her stare.

"Listen, Ada," he sounded so scared yet so tender it made her nervous, "I have a confession to make."

* * *

I'm going to get ripped apart for this, aren't I?


	15. Dawn of an Era

Ugh... obligations. I'm getting slower at writing or something.

And with this installment I can proudly add "intense lemons" to the M rating.

* * *

The first full year had been difficult on account her changes, the sadness from the deaths of her parents, and the shocks of being part of a different world. Oracle had slept very little that year. He stayed with her every night, awake, to make sure that she had someone to comfort her when she woke up from her nightmares. He had worked tirelessly on the translator, allowing Val to help speed the process along at high velocity when they were not occupied with learning each other's cultures and languages.

On top of that: work had piled up from his constant absence. He monitored thousands of operations, answered requests and questions, predicted problems and solved them before they could fully occur. He was swamped: seventeen years old, still somewhat innocent, extremely tired, and depressed because Val would never see him the way he saw her.

At the end of the year he was diagnosed with repressive overload syndrome. The equivalent in Human would be a diagnosis of cancer before the treatments were perfected: it was terminal and incurable, a slow painful death that slowly removed the body's faculties one by one. Sevist gave him another three years before his body began to start deteriorating. A year after that he would be dead. His doctor urged him to allow the council of the 100th to take his place so he could recover from the rigors of the year but Oracle brushed him aside. The faster he died the better. Despite being the most respected Sicarian on the planet, he had no right to belong in society when he was a detriment and a dysfunctional mate.

His only happiness was spending time with Val and pretending like she returned his feelings. She was speaking Sicarian and its idioms with a far greater proficiency than he ever could have imagined, and she was still improving. One to two more years and her voice would be indistinguishable from that of a native speaker. He would be able to die with at least that slice of happiness.

She turned sixteen. He had gotten a hold of his parents and they had held a little celebration in their household. She had thoroughly enjoyed their version of the "_birthday cake_," which was more or less exactly the same thing: a light and fluffy pastry covered in a thin sauce covering. That was when she had met some of the children of the staff.

She handled everything surprisingly well. His heart cords ached. She was so good with kids: compassionate, gentle, tolerant. Despite being completely alien and frightening them at first, they warmed up to her extremely quickly. Eventually she had them laughing as she told them stories about herself and her experiences, that did not involve the sadness and the losses.

Eventually she was talking with everyone. He tried not to let his disappointment overwhelm him. He was already under the burdens of too many other things.

He enjoyed learning about human culture, history, and society. She explained everything in a way that showed no bias towards one event or another. He was shocked to find out how recently they had entered into the galactic community and a little jealous that her people had discovered FTL before his, even though his people had broken the infinite energy paradox, the information paradox, and the dark matter paradox centuries before.

Oracle had not yet begun to teach her the finer points of the Sicarian language and emotions. He would essentially be telling her about his misplaced feelings at that point. He had discovered, at some point, that the equivalent word in English for his name was "_Oracle_," but had yet to tell her that. He preferred it that she called him by what she thought was a name and not an object or label.

He did not think he would _ever_ tell her his birth name because that was sacred.

Eventually she started to teach him about the other races in the galaxy, and fished around in her old omni-tool for as much information as she could find about the races already existent in the galaxy. These Turi'ans sounded quite a lot like Sicarians, he was eager to meet with them.

The Asa'ri were quite pretty, blue like the aquatic Sicarians, and instead of hair they had fringes on their heads. He was intrigued to learn that they had a similar nervous system to theirs and were able to connect outside of their own. Sicarians only did a similar thing when mating so they could share their pleasure and positive emotions. The way she described it, they used that method of sexual intercourse for not sexual intercourse as well, which was a little off-putting. Val had agreed. He was little shocked to find out that they were a mono-gendered race, and could mate with anything that had DNA to produce another Asa'ri. Oracle shuddered; so they were like succubae.

Sicarians did not have an equivalent word for _Drell_, so he had to use the English approximation of the name. His thoughts were generally to be expected. A line in their jaw that reminded him of the jaw split and their skin was scaly and far closer to theirs than any of the species Val had shown him. Their history was interesting and unfortunate; a client race to jellyfish, whose children were trained to be assassins.

They skipped over Batari'ans. He knew enough about them and Val paled when mentioning them.

He took pity on the Quari'ans for their condition and position in the galactic community. Oracle explained to Val that Sicarians had created synthetic sentience thousands of years prior. Each one of their space vessels was integrated with a personality and a synthetic manifestation that could roam about the ship. The crews felt a greater sense of camaraderie towards their vessel if it was a legitimately living being. And not soon after they had successfully given birth to AI, had at least one Sicarian bonded with a synthetic creation. After that it became a commonplace occurrence that the captains of vessels bonded with their ship. Opposite-gendered manifestations, fully "equipped," were then created for personal interactions. Though they could not produce offspring, it was overlooked.

They found that their craft performed better when they were mated, coincidentally. Val had been disbelieving at first.

"I am serious," he said with good-natured tone on his subvocals.

"Prove it then," Val said smugly, using her subvocals properly.

"I do not know how. You would be unable to distinguish between a synthetic personality and a normal one."

"I will just have to meet one then."

"Of course, once we have… properly announced introduced you to the public."

"Have you not? It has been a year…"

"And I think they are ready to receive you. I was planning on waiting until the monument is finished for you to give a speech about its importance to you and us."

"_Y-you want me to give a speech? In front of… thousands-"_

"About three and a half billion. The entire planet will be watching… Sorry if that ruined your confidence."

"_It's just… Sixteen is not typically the age in our culture when we get up and give speeches in front of a whole planet_.

"It is not in ours either, but you are, according to what you have told me about Humans and indeed the other races, extraordinary."

Val blushed at the compliment. Oracle noticed. He thought it best not to tell her how cute it made her look when she did that.

"Thank you. I am honored," she thought for a moment, "_Although, a friend of my sister's made it into the military's highest division at sixteen. He was a commander at seventeen. I suppose that's almost equivalent._"

"Sounds like the kind of man your sister would be best to court and eventually bond with," Oracle replied matter-of-factly.

Val cringed.

"_Both of them are super thick. They already love each other but neither has figured it out yet. And it sounds weird when you say it like that. Humans don't bond, they marry._"

"_Marry? I thought that was the word for happy?"_

_"That's 'merry,'"_ Val spelled the two words for him. She sighed, "_We don't bond… it's basically a ceremony and legal process that grants certain rights and privileges to couples._"

"Sounds a lot like ours but… maybe I missed this but do _Humans_ biologically tie to one another?"

"No."

"But that means-" he accidentally dumped his alarm and the rest of his statement into his superconscious. Val, making full use of her developing superconscious, sensed it and answered his question.

"_Humanity_ holds little respect among the galactic community for exactly that reason. We are one of two or three races that forms no bond. We are stereotyped as faithless greedy gluttons who will gladly leave our _spouses_ when money or sex is involved. Not every _Human_ is like that, my parents being good examples, but most are."

Oracle was uneasy. He had not known of that particular detail until now. Val seemed a little upset about it as well.

"Sorry, _Val_, that conversation changed topics quickly. At least I learned something… um… sorry."

"_Don't worry about it. So that speech…_"

"When the monument is finished in five months, you will be the… second opening speaker at the podium. I'm going to introduce first just to make sure that no one gets any wrong ideas. You will hopefully praise the monument as an adequate memorial in honor of your parents and yourself, and what you have brought to us."

"_Sounds easy enough_."

"You will do wonderfully," She blushed again as he praised her, "There is one more thing that I would implore to do for me."

"Yes?"

_Would you be my mate, my bond, my only true Light?_

"A plaque will be placed marking your parent's burial site, I think it best if you write the English portion."

"_A-alright. I can do that… hopefully_," she sounded nervous and depressed at the same time.

"Honoress," Oracle could not remember when he started calling her the Sicarian equivalent of her English name, he did so about half the time now, "you will not ruin it; I know you have it within you to execute such a task to perfection as you have demonstrated in the past."

She blushed.

* * *

His heart was pounding into his throat. Her smooth chocolate brown irises were boring into his crystal blue ones with unparalleled intensity. Persevere.

"I have a confession to make," he paused, "I've been holding this back longer than I can remember, not wanting to take you away from a perfectly normal life, not wanting to risk our friendship, thinking that you were never interested in anything more than friendship," he took a breath and continued, blocking out her expression, "I can't take it anymore; this skirting around how I really feel. I'm going to say in three words what I have been trying to show you for _years_," he stopped and took a deep breath.

"I love you."

Shepard stared blankly at him for a few seconds.

"Very funny Garrus," she said, mirth filling her voice, "I'm tired, you're probably _really _goddamn tired, I think I'm going to go to sleep now. You should probably too."

"Ada I wasn't-"

"You have some perfect Turian to go back to at Black Ops. What's her name? Victus?"

He gave an exasperated chuff.

"Ada, everyone in my squad is taken. Victus has a mate. My other squad mates are paired up with one another."

"But you-"

"Because she _is _amazing Ada," answering her question before she had to ask it, "But she _isn't_ _you_!"

"I don't buy that,"

"Ada. I cannot remember when I began to love you, fell for you so hard, but it was before Black Ops. I think it happened the day we were stuck at the transit station waiting in the rain, I cracked a joke and you laughed. You rested your head on my shoulder and curled against my side for warmth. I knew. I _knew_. Victus can do all these impressive things. So can you. She doesn't get me like you do; she doesn't have your amazing sense of humor, your personality, your creativity. She's mated with a Drell, Ada, a _Drell_! They are so goddamn quiet, stoic, and boring all the time, but I respect her decision because I can understand why someone like a Drell can be appealing. Ada I love_ everything about you_."

That was the same day that Shepard remembered.

"You… can't be really saying this. I don't deserve to be with you Garrus, no matter how much I love you back. Christ I must be _so _tired right now."

She continued to pull away from him. Actions would have to speak louder than words, he would just have to go for it now and regret it later. Garrus caught her by the shoulder, spun her to face him, and pressed his forehead to hers, purring out his all of his repressed love and need for her since as long as he could remember.

Shepard was currently shocked to the point of disbelief. This confession was part of almost every one of her fantasies, her dreams, her hopes. The way he pressed his forehead to hers, the Turian version of a kiss, was something else. The way he rolled his forehead along with hers with so much feeling, passion, and intimacy was indescribable. The one side of Garrus she had no experience was as a lover and currently she her entire being demanded it. But she had to be sure he was not just making this up.

"This better not be a dream," she growled as their foreheads continued their contact, "Because I confess that I love you back. You have no idea how long I've wanted you, Garrus. No. Idea, how long I've wanted to hear you say these things to me. I just… it's just… too good to be real."

"Except I do. Spirits we are both so stupid," his confidence was back in full. The way she was pressing closer and closer to him gave her words merit.

"And if this _is _a dream," he said he murmured as his lips drew closer to hers, "then I hope we never wake up. But it isn't. So I need you to say it like everything is real, because this is reality. I need to hear you believe that this is really happening."

He was not lying.

"I had no idea you were such a closet romantic Garrus," She half-laughed-half-sobbed, "I love you. Oh God and Spirits, Garrus, I love you," she whispered into his mouth barely in possession of her faculties at the shock of what was going on. It was the same rush that she had felt when the news came in that her parents died: there was no warning, it was instant. This was the same but on the opposite direction. Everything she once lost came flooding back to her: her strength and confidence, her hopes and aspirations, her happiness. She shook and her eyes welled up for the last time.

He inched back just slightly so that his tongue, wonderfully textured and only slightly moist, could dart out between his teeth and catch the tear as it fell.

"Dear spirits, thank you Ada," she loved the way Garrus purred her name, "Glad to know that my romantic skills made an impression."

She needed this. He pulled away from before their lips could make more than chaste contact, closed his eyes and ran his talons across his fringe.

"I can't believe this is really happening," he said, his voice breaking.

"Neither can I," Ada replied in her daze.

Garrus moved back in, his muscles driven by passion. She was hit with the realization that he was going to take her; and it was going to be real, and she was going to love it even if it was probably going to be very fucking painful. She did not even attempt to hide her arousal as everything sunk in. There, in the most exotic location she could think of, with the only one she had ever wanted. She was far more nervous than she had ever been in her dreams. Those were experiments, if she fucked up then she could just rewind. This was completely and utterly real.

"Garrus I-"

His soft mouth plates closed over hers. Shepard felt self-conscious as she came to the understanding that she was not quite as good as she had hoped she would be. Her nervousness that she would mess something up was tearing at her. He pulled her against him.

"You're nervous; I'm your first."

She nodded apprehensively.

"I'm scared shitless as well. you're my first."

That was clearly a lie. There was no way he had abstained for her sake. Turians were so casual about sex and he had women dropping like flies at his feet. In addition, there was no way he could have known that she would reciprocate. But then again, she recognized the feeling because she had gone through a similar experience. By Human standards Shepard was quite the catch; she had administered her fair share of rejections because it felt like cheating on Garrus.

"Really, Garrus?"

"It would be cheating on you," he replied, confirming her hunch while still holding her. His replaced his lips over hers so he could slide his tongue between his teeth and hers. She moaned as his tongue made contact with hers and began to move slowly across it, the small grooves of his stimulating the nerve endings on hers. Her legs went weak at the thought of that texture swiping over her now sopping core.

"I'm sorry I haven't given you much warning here Ada. Am I right in assuming that you want this as much as I do?" She could only nod in response, "Are you sure? It's probably going to-"

"_Please Garrus_!"

"Mmm, alright. And one more thing…"

He reached down and removed the omni-tool from her wrist. Body language would have to suffice from that point forward. His purr sounded more intense without the static of the translator as it attempted to spin the sound into words.

Garrus set the omni-tool down by her sleeping bag and then turned his attentions back to Shepard. He forced his hands to stay steady as he reached for her the hemline of her shirt. She shivered from the cold, but he was about to rectify that.

The moment his blunted talons made such intimate contact with her skin he burst out from between his pelvic plating and into the undersuit he wore. He groaned. He had only to touch her to be aroused; she was powerful. He kept up his ministrations, drawing patterns and massaging her muscles as he lifted her shirt up around her torso and eventually completely off.

For a few seconds he leaned back and took in her form. The light was fading but he could still see her perfectly. He knew what was and was not considered "sexy" to Humans, some might have been put off by her quite visible muscles and toned figure, but he found they made her so much more beautiful; power and grace fused inside one being.

Another shiver.

He was quick to pull her against him to transfer as much of his blazing Turian body heat to hers as possible. Her arms were tightly locked around his neck keeping his mouth and tongue in a slow dance with hers. Shepard seemed to get used to the game quite quickly.

Her turn. He allowed her to touch him, unsure of how much she knew about Turian erogenous zones. Her dexterous fingers coaxed and pleasure-filled moan from his mouth as she hit a tender spot on his waist. She seemed to know exactly what she was doing. She gave him the same treatment he had given her and removed his shirt, leaving him bare-chested.

Shepard's tantalizingly soft lips grazed his markings and his purring increased. She must have done her research… because one hand had slipped into the space between his fringes and his head was slowly contracting and releasing in a slow massage. She knew to get in deep as well, where the real nerve endings were.

For their first time they were not nearly as tentative as he would have expected; she seemed to be working from memory. Dirty girl. Turians had the instincts built in.

Garrus nuzzled her forehead and drew her head back so he could move in. Her bra was suddenly ripped from, shredded, exposing her chest completely to Garrus. There was no time to be shy or feel vulnerable. The speed at which Garrus moved back to his work conquered her fears that he might judge her appearance.

She was glad that she had brought a change of clothing because at this rate he would probably shred her underwear as well. Garrus' head dipped below hers and began to roam around her chest, searching for the locations that made her squirm. The white-hot point that was his tongue explored her collar bones, the jugular notch, and the valley between her breasts.

He seemed to be working from memory. Dirty boy.

She gasped when his prehensile tongue traced carefully around one areola before it completely coiled around the nipple and constricted like a snake. Her back arched and pressed her stomach against his, the warmth quite welcome. His mandibles fluttered against her breast as he slowly rotated his tongue, altering the pressure, around the peak. Both of her hands were now around his head, fingernails digging at the protective spine plating. He growled in what she hoped was pleasure before shifting his head and giving her other breast the same treatment.

"Garrus," she breathed, wondering how her voice sounded to him without the translator. His growl turned back to a purr and he returned to her mouth via her neck, leaving tingling nips along the soft skin with his teeth.

"Ada," he replied. Without the translator her name sounded clearer. His voice melted against her like warm water. Speaking of which…

They explored each other slowly, taking their time to ogle their lover's form.

She was at her breaking point; her underwear was completely ruined. In the dim light she could just see that his pants were tented _way_ out. He was at his breaking point as well. Garrus wrapped one arm around her bare waist, hauled her over to their sleeping bags and set her down on his, which was far larger and softer than hers. His weight settled over her and she quickly lost her shivers from the cold.

Garrus slipped down her waist and undid her pants with deft fingers, easily sliding them down her legs and off her magically shoe-less and sock-less feet. The scent of her arousal was more powerful than he thought. That instantly triggered his scenting mechanism, marking her as his. He was going to tear his pants and undersuit at this rate.

His hands travelled back up her bare legs slowly, chasing the soreness from them with powerful fingers trained to kill. It felt much more rewarding to pleasure his lover than to take a life, despite the thrill of both.

He drunk in the sight below him: His Ada, _his_, so vulnerable, bared, and eager for him, so ready to become his. Her curves, despite being Human rather than Turian, were no less appealing and the dying orange light set her skin aflame. He memorized her form as quickly as his mind would allow before it demanded that he return to pleasure his mate; for it was only through her pleasure that he gained any himself.

Ada was breathless at the sight of her Garrus, _hers_, staring down at her with indescribable quantities of emotion, so careful to please her before himself, so tender with her virgin body. His scent had become overpowering, intoxicating, and irresistible. The dimming light masked her blush. He could see that he found her beautiful, desirable, and worthy in every aspect of her being.

Friends had described their first; most sounded like awkward encounters between two completely shallow things that were ready to blow each other off after they finished. This was the opposite. This was simply overwhelming perfection.

The cold was setting back in. Garrus settled back down, pressing her legs apart and sliding in under her calves, and drew lazy lines on her perfectly sculpted abdomen with his tongue while caressing her sides with his talons. Her spine arched her belly into his touch and his purr intensified another notch.

Garrus rose so he could remove the final obstacle: the thin cloth covering her core and her virginity. Using his only sharpened talon he sliced the cloth cleanly and pulled the scrap away. Dear Spirits she was slick and the aroma was enticing. His palms rested on her legs and applied the slightest pressure. Shepard let them fall open by herself. She wanted this as much as he. His pants seemed to grow tighter by the second.

Completely bare… how did she know?

Shepard almost hit her climax prematurely just from the anticipation, and that _look_ he gave her before lowering his head to her core. His mouth plates pressed against her sex and parted, grinding against her folds. She was _so_ glad she had shaved recently. All the hiking had prompted her to, it reduced chafing, but now it was a complete virtue. Her legs, which she had let fall open to him quickly squeezed around his cowl when his tongue passed over her clitoris and drew with it burning white hot pleasure. The next swipe dipped slightly into her folds before passing its full length over the bundle of nerves.

Garrus reveled in her taste: the opposing chirality of her fluids turned them sweet, like a desert or a decadent fruit. He thanked his lack of allergies and lapped happily, eager for more of her. Shepard let lose a strangled moan of liquid pleasure and quickly her hands were back at his fringes. He backed away when she began to writhe. He wanted to save her first proper climax for the actual coupling.

Garrus' face was dripping with her own fluids which just about sent her over the edge. Fantasies 123 through 205 included that at some point. She could smell herself on him as he slid back up her naked body so their faces could once again meet. God and Spirits she could _taste_ herself on him when he reentered her mouth with his tongue.

This time she actually sucked on it. Garrus could no longer contain himself; if she did not remove his pants then his phallus would probably tear through them. Luckily she answered his silent plea and snapped the clasps in the sides of his pants. They were pulled down, a little awkwardly over his spurs, and finally off. Shepard growled at the sight of one final obstacle: his undersuit. She grabbed his hand with the sharpened talon and used it to slice through the fabric.

Garrus hardened even more at how arousing that was; taking control and using him like that was considered extremely erotic, at least by Turian standards. The cold hit Garrus' protruding member in waves. The over-production of self-lubricant, an artifact of Turian virginity in both sexes, caused him to gush all over her core. She gasped.

All Shepard felt was a rush of warm viscous fluid against her glistening folds before he scooped her into his arms and hauled her over to the hot spring in the darker part of the cavern. Oh God, she barely held on when she knew what he was planning. Her fluids mingled with his and ran down her legs. Garrus would barely have to breathe on her and she would hit her climax.

The water of the pool enveloped her and the cold was gone completely. Garrus was still holding her against his chest as he sank down. He was standing in the deepest part of the pool which put the water line up to his stomach. Her butt landed on a much shallower ledge to one side of the heated pool, the perfect height so their waists were just aligned. Shepard was aching for him; everything about this situation was overwhelming. Sex with her dream man in a hot spring in the middle of scenic nowhere? Her friends would probably kill her if they knew. She shuddered again, but not from the cold.

Garrus' face was dimly lit as the light was nearly gone from the cavern. He looked in her eyes expectantly, one final question, she nodded and prepared herself; it would only be painful before it would be pleasing. A little fact about Turians she remembered that did not make the prospect any easier was how they continued to bloat inside while they were still virgins; and since most threw that away the moment they entered basic, they stopped. She bit her lip. Garrus was going to be _difficult_.

His hands rested on her waist and he began to shift his weight forward. Contact from one palm was lost momentarily to guide himself to her entrance. Garrus knew it would be a tight fit, especially because he was quite a great deal larger than the average Turian male, who was twice the size of the average Human male. It would be tricky to restrain himself, but he would make sure to make everything as comfortable as possible for her. At least he could feel the warm water softening his plates up which would severely reduce chafing.

Both gasped when his tip made contact with her labia. Garrus continued to push forward into her, beginning to stretch her apart. Shepard's breathing grew shallower as he continued his entrance. Her hands were on his upper arms, scraping her finger nails against his plates. For her first time she was taking on a heavyweight; each next centimeter continued to widen her. She was biting down so hard that her tongue began to bleed. Garrus noticed and quickly moved his wrist to her mouth and halted his movement. She shot him a questioning stare and he nodded, signaling for her to bite down on it.

She obliged and he continued. At some point she felt as if she were about to tear in half, and her lips were tingling slightly as she drew blood from him. He felt about as thick as her damn wrist and she could only imagine how long. Shepard was consumed by fire, the only pleasure came from the line of ridges that raked across her clitoris every half centimeter or so. He continued to move forward in a clean, unending movement, surprisingly composed.

Garrus was losing himself. Shepard was so tight and so wet, yet there was still resistance despite the combination of their lubricants. He would barely have to move once he was completely buried inside her and he would reach his first climax. Finally, he grazed her limit and she cried out in pain. Their hips were just touching.

Shepard had bottomed him out which was a surprise to her. Her lover leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers, rolling it slightly. It was painful how full she felt, but his gently caresses of her skin with his tongue and talons were beginning to remedy that as her body adjusted to his girth.

The room began to light up again. They both looked around for a moment seeing that the hot springs and ceiling of the cavern were coated in patches of bioluminescent algae. The soft blue glow outlined their connected forms which allowed Shepard to clearly see his handsome muscular form covered with his full-body markings. She chanced a look down to where he was buried within her and could just see her skin warping around him, a slight bulge showing just how deep he really was. She moaned at the sight.

Garrus was staring as well, caught between a cross of a growl and a purr and a moan. He was savoring the feeling of her stretched over him completely. The luminescence highlighted her irresistible figure perfectly, casting an alluring blue glow behind and leaving her mostly in shadow. He placed his mouth back over hers and continued to fondle her tongue with his. A talon idly stroked her clitoris to distract her from the pain.

Shepard came when he rolled his hips just slightly against hers, moving himself around within her ever so slightly, all of his ridges pulling against all the right places within her. The combination of too many factors added up and she contracted around him. She cried out in pain and pleasure against his mouth. He guided her head to his neck and she understood. She bit down hard enough to draw blood and he roared.

Garrus was in a similar situation, they had barely moved and already he hit his first climax too overwhelmed to keep himself for any longer. He flooded her, knowing it would be completely harmless to her. Her head tilted back but he just managed to abstain from marking her, refusing to put her in any more pain than she already was.

Shepard fell forward and rested her head against his neck. Garrus simply purred.

They waited for a few minutes, still completely aroused, before Shepard took the initiative and rolled her hips against his. He responded by backing out a little and thrusting in again. This time, Shepard moaned in pleasure. He moved slightly again, giving a simple shallow thrust.

Shepard bucked against him. Riding the knife's edge between pain and pleasure was thrilling. She gasped his name against his neck as she relaxed a little. She pushed off from her ledge and wrapped her legs around his narrow waist as he continued to slowly thrust. God and Spirits she was bad at this, he was barely moving and already another climax was about to stop him. Her fantasies had always involved something fast and rough and _easy,_ but she had to stop comparing the two. She tried to hold it back for as long as possible but she failed in the end and clenched around him.

Garrus was not finished so soon the second time and continued slowly and lovingly to coax her over the edge more times than she could count. His smooth and gentle thrusts picked up intensity and pleasure over time, as her body continued to accommodate him. Shepard was breathless with ecstasy. He was not fucking, rutting, or screwing her; no he was giving himself to her, making love to her.

Gurrus was close himself, and held out just long enough to slip another orgasm from his Ada. He growled her name into her hair as he ejaculated. He was not exactly tired, but he was extremely satisfied. He forgot about the knot.

Shepard was about to bask in the afterglow, which was a soothingly cool blue in this case, like his eyes, but forgot completely about the knot. She stiffened as he expanded inside her. Her head threw back and she gritted her teeth in pain. Garrus was trilling apologetically and purring against her. He gingerly maneuvered their singular body onto the shallow ledge and pulled her with him as he reclined, jolting their connection slightly and causing her to gasp.

He stayed locked with her for unnervingly long, sending a steady flow of his seed into her womb, his body attempting to ensure impregnation. Since it did not seem like he would be done for a while she closed her eyes and leaned forward on his chest. The pain of the knot changed to waves of pleasure as he pulsated slightly. Shepard was oddly pleased by the sensation of his warm fluids filling her. She sighed as he began to comb through her hair with one wetted hand while using the other to spread warm water over her back.

She nearly fell asleep to his gentle ministrations, rhythmic breathing, and four-stroke heartbeat. If she died now she would die happy. The algae that dotted the hot spring and the ceiling of the cavern brought the stars inside and provided just enough light to make out Garrus' powerful muscles and markings, which she absent mindedly traced with her lips.

Finally he began to retract and Shepard moaned as the ridges raked across her vagina and teased her clit on the way out. Her back arched but she did not have the energy for another round after so many. He left her with a physical emptiness like no other, yet a mental fullness to which she was completely new. His penis slipped back into his own body allowing all the seed he had pumped into her to flow freely out. The current carried away the lubricant, blood, and semen, leaving them cleaner than when they started. The minerals in the water had made his plates delightfully soft and her skin even softer.

He was talking but she could not understand it without her translator. Some words she could make out through her knowledge of some basic Turian, but everything else was warm vibrations. She heard her name a few times and the word "love" even more. He knew she had a thing for his voice and was taking full advantage of the effect. He continued to purr his words into her hair.

He picked her up again and she nested against his carapace. She stayed there, naked and content, as he pulled her through the blistering cold and back into the warmth of his sleeping bag and body heat. She lay with her back against his chest, comfortable and still wondering where the hell his keel bone went. She had meant to ask him earlier but…

Garrus felt her drop off to sleep. He still held onto the afterglow. Not from the sex really, but from her admission and consummation of intense reciprocity. He was giddy at the thought of being able to tell her that he loved her whenever he damn well pleased, touch her without hiding his feelings, having her on full reserve as his and his alone, and eventually bonding with her permanently and spending the rest of his life with her.

Separation anxieties would be devastating he knew, but he would visit her wherever she was and whenever he had time. Garrus fell asleep bathing in her scent and the feeling of her skin against his.


	16. Moving Forward

I'm being swamped with work lately. Updates are going to be slower than usual. Sorry

* * *

The _Honoress_ was the name chosen for their flagship cruiser. Oracle had taken Honoress up to the roof of their residence to view the launch of the skeleton and fully completed FTL core into orbit. From there it would travel to the orbital hangar for further assembly as they blasted more pieces of the ship. The first launch was to use the newly minted and conditioned _Archlight_ drive core, which was almost an exact replica of the one they had taken from Honoress' ship, only improved upon with their own technologies.

Honoress, he had to stop thinking of her like that, _Val_ was in awe at the sight of a ground launch of a cruiser, of which she had only seen videos from when her people first left her planet. Oracle had watched a few of them that she had lying around from her old omni-tool data and scoffed. She gasped when the pinprick of light rose slowly, flared and then shot up into the atmosphere, disappearing into space in seconds. She had commented that it looked even faster than most of their craft could fly in atmosphere.

"How does the payload withstand such a force of acceleration?" she asked him after staring for a few moments.

"Well, for one thing: that was the drive core that we copied from your ship affecting the mass of the vessel, and two: Sicarians have found ways to reduce mass with dark matter, just not to the zero point."

"What was that word? D-ark matt'er?"

"Dark matter," he repeated, "_the English equivalent is dark matter_."

She trilled for acknowledgement.

"So you have technology involving… dark matter?"

"We do. First used for transportation about a two thousand years ago when it was born, but now it is almost everywhere."

"What, exactly?"

"Anything that converts 'bright matter,' or normal matter, into energy and back again. So the trashcan, for example."

"I can already tell that Vir'Sicari'an is going to popular in the galactic community…" she paused and hinted worry across her superconscious.

"What is wrong Honore- I mean _Val_?" he caught himself. She was bound to notice at some point and ask, but fortunately she had yet to.

"Personally, when we do make it back… You should keep your technology hidden away. Even the Asa'ri are not even as developed as Sicari'ans. The galaxy is already a violent place and there would be some… eager to take your miracles and turn them into abominations."

He sent her comfort and warmth, the slight relaxation in her muscles was indication that she was receiving it.

"Not to worry. I believe you, _Val_, and it concerns me as well. I will make note of it."

"_We don't need more violence,"_ she whispered, "_just look where it's gotten us…"_

Oracle did not speak. If the events of her past had not occurred the way they did, Sicarian-kind would be stuck in their system with a stagnating society and population. It was the violence that had spawned so many wonders for their people; for him.

"_I am sorry_," he crooned, helpless against his own feelings.

Honoress swiveled her head to look at him and something seemed to click.

"_No I didn't mean-"_

"_I am not apologizing for our gains from you, Val, I am apologizing for your losses from us and from the _Batari'ans_._"

Val knew he was disappointed; lately his air of friendliness had come close to flat-lining in place of gravity. He was no longer the Vael'en she remembered from the previous year during which she had been developing her skills with the subharmonics. Every time he spoke to her it was like he was restraining something. His affliction had developed within the past few months and slowly gotten worse. She never asked about it and wondered what had stopped her.

Vael'en had been gone a great deal more often in the latter of the first year. But when he was not, he stayed with her every night, woke her up from her nightmares to give her comfort and security before she fell asleep again. The nightmares were always the same few: the rape of her family, the gruesome death of Vael'en, her sister and friends rejecting her as a freak. Every time the dream ended the same: Vael'en would firmly kiss her on the lips before she awoke, sweaty and disturbed. She had admitted every scenario to him at some point or another but always kept the ending separate. He did not need to know that she was harboring feelings for him. He was stressed enough has it were.

For a few months' worth of time he could not be there for her and she barely got sleep. Her days were dull when he was not there to teach and learn from, to simply talk to. She missed his wit, his very subtle but effective sense of humor, because it reminded her that he could also be so serious around her when she needed it.

Val was shocked when a couple of the Nostrom staff contacted her, asking if she would be interested in teaching their children the same things she had gone over with Vael'en. She obliged.

She spent a few days of each ten-day week in a comfortable room with a three cute, still wingless Sicarian younglings, and two older more mature children giving lessons on the various galactic communities as well as her native tongue. The percentile system came quite in handy; she knew they knew she was young, but they were conditioned to respect her based on her status as 101st.

Her successful interactions with the children brought her closer to their families as an alternative mother figure. She was thanked often by their parents for her diligent and patient work with their children who were very much attached to her at this point.

Inevitably, one of the younglings asked her an awkward question.

"Are you going to mate and bond with the Vael'en of Nostrom?"

The article before his name was odd, but she brushed that aside as a simple mistake. But her blush was uncontrollable. She, at this point, was uninterested in compromising their already tentative relationship, but in her hope of hopes, she wanted such a thing. _Badly_.

"No," she replied honestly.

"Why not?"

It was adorable how innocent the little Sicarian was.

"Clearly, we are incompatible species. More importantly it would be extremely disrespectful to take the place of a proper mate for Vael'en and his chances for a family and legacy."

Lights above now she was beginning to think like they did. The eldest of the group, a male and female, assented her claim, shooting warning growls at the young one for pestering their superior with needless questioning. In response, Val issued _them_ a subvocal expression warning them not to pick on the young ones for their naïveté. The two trilled apologetically.

She saw Vael'en less and less during the day even when he was not actually away for work, but he would always return at night and kneel next to her bed and make the most comforting sound. She wondered if he knew how attractive yet adorable it was when he purred like a cat and cooed like a dove at the same time. Val had wants, and she had _wants_…

Twice she had the dream where she saw herself, flowing with beautiful and intricate electric blue sub dermal markings. Now that she knew which changes to look for, she found them: taller and more muscular, shorter hair. The luminescent markings under her skin and the glowing rings in her irises were not part of the changes in her Vael'en had revealed. She always had time to look at herself, usually without wearing any clothing. The markings seemed to cluster around her upper chest, arms, and waist, not much her head and legs.

Then, in conclusion, the amber markings she took to be those of Vael'en would appear in her proximity; quite _intimate_ proximity. It never got farther than that, but it was clear that neither of them were wearing any clothing which usually meant one thing, especially in that intimate closeness, and especially to Sicarians.

* * *

The unveiling of the monument approached faster than either of them expected. Oracle worked with her on her speech, but only barely. She wrote the whole thing in Sicarian and some parts in English for legitimacy. There were no grammar mistakes but he showed her some nice long words she could use in replacement for the less eloquent ones. The characters to be engraved upon the plaque had been sent off to the design team who were in charge of executing everything.

Vael'en had her handwrite the message, which was different, but his justification was that he wanted it to be completely unique and personal. People would look at the plaque and know that it was created by a living sentient being and not a machine, and the awe factor would sink in that the being who wrote it was none other than Val Shepard herself.

_To my parents,  
In your words mom: 'We'll always be watching and supporting you, even when you can't see us.' I cannot begin to express how much those words mean, and how much truth there is behind them. Both of you sacrificed so much in your lives for what you thought was right, for your family, for everyone. Dad, you gave your life to protect us and bravely protected our lives to the last breath. Mom, you reassured me that you both will always watch over Ada and I, and so far you have been successful in your endeavors. You both single-handedly made peace with a species alien to us, as you did before, and you did not even utter a word. I miss you mom and dad, I wish you could be here to see the wonders of this species: These _Sicari'ans. _I know I am leaving out a lot, there is not much I can say that encompasses what you have done for Ada and I, for Humanity, for _Vir'sicari'an, _and for the galaxy. I love you so much mom and dad. -Val Shepard_.

Oracle loved the short but meaningful message; without having to tell her, she contained all of his own thoughts about the sacrifices of her parents. Her handwriting was graceful and consistent; even he could read it with no issue. One day he knew that Sicarians would be able to look at the message and actually read it once their translator was finished. It would serve as a reminder that their savior had been a living breathing being like they, who had faced hardship and loss but braved the task still; a true role model.

Oracle wrote his part which was a translation of what she wrote. He wrote a side note: "You were fifteen when you landed here on Eval'en, a young age to face what you did. I am proud to say that I have made your acquaintance as well as earned your friendship. None of this would have been possible without your strength, perseverance, and determination. Oracle of Nostrom"

The plaque arrived early so they could check it for mistakes. Upon finding none, Oracle contacted his design team and approved, even appraised the plaque for its wonderful durability and quality. Honoress, _Val_, admired the engravings and seemed a little surprised to find out that her signature was completely inlaid with diamond. She informed him that diamond was extremely expensive and rare, and the quantity used was quite unbelievable.

Oracle did not know quite what she was talking about, diamond was so easily constructed through synthesis that it was practically worthless, as with most materials. He knew the mechanics of the process, but he did not want to waste their time boring her with it. He told her he would explain it to her when they had nothing better to do and perhaps when he knew some of the English scientific jargon equivalents.

Although, she was right to assume that it was expensive because the process taken to tint the diamond to blue had been extremely costly. Coros had taken a sample of the luciferase that her body was slowly secreting, replicated it, and used it to derive the stunning sapphire color with which the diamond was fused. He did not think that telling her would be the best idea; he could wait until the markings actually began to appear to explain what was happening. Currently, however, the buildup of the chemical was not enough for any visibility and her nervous system had not linked with it. His name was engraved using the same method, only with his fiery amber-colored luciferase.

He could not stop staring at her signature, thinking about how much of her it really showed: Her grace, her beauty, the fact that she was an extraterrestrial. It was so similar to her eyes and he could only imagine how that color would look beneath her skin. Or on his crest, which had yet to develop and probably never would.

His mind flitted back to her interactions with the young ones who lived in one side of the residence. It did not really help his condition to know that if they had children, through biological miracle or adoption, she would be an amazing mother. His condition was sped along during the day when she actually had other obligations, teaching some of the younglings being one.

It was not like he did not have obligations. With the fleet coming together he had mountains of designs and projects to approve as more cruisers were starting assembly planet-side before being shipped into the orbital hangar for finalization. Others had been taken for retrofitting.

Oracle was glad that the dark matter paradox had been solved a few centuries prior, because the _Honoress_ would probably have cost the entire planet's worth of resources to construct. At two kilometers in length it was the largest craft ever constructed by Sicarian-kind and only possible due to the use of mass-effect technology. The other cruisers would be only a fraction of the size, the smallest at five hundred meters.

He held off the repression as long as possible but it was getting difficult to keep the depression out of his voice. He knew _Val_ had noticed changes in his behavior, she was attentive like that. Still, his parents picked it up first so he had to tell them not to worry about it.

Honoress… _Val_ was clearly excited for her debut in to the public because it meant that she would no longer face the restrictions that Oracle had placed over her for a year and a half. Assuming it all went well, and she was received as the Archlight she was, he would grant her full independence to go out and do what she pleased with his family's resources and status. Oracle trusted her; he knew she would never abuse that kind of power. He would just have his Chief of Guard Agent Axess Tare'an go with her to make sure she was safe at all times. They would be good friends; they were the same age after all.

* * *

The day of the ceremony was extremely busy but neither of them was nervous. Both had practiced their speeches and thanks to their eidetic memories, they had memorized them as well. Oracle had complete trust in Honoress; her introduction was flawless and her speech inspiring. His job was to introduce her, let the public know that she was an Archlight, and when she was finished speaking, present her with the plaque which would christen the monument.

He had ordered her an extremely fine Sicarian formal suit from a famous tailor knowing it would hurt him to look at her in such a form-fitting elegant suit, whose metal trim was shaped to highlight her curves as they would a Sicarian female. The cloth was nearly the same color as her eyes, which contrasted quite well with the beige skin. Her upper chest was left almost completely bare to show off the implants which would be received by the public as jewelry and serve as a sign that she was actively incorporating Sicarian customs and traditions into her life.

He was correct in his predictions. The only thing he could think of when she was _in_ the suit was how she would look _out_ of the suit. Her curves, which had pronounced themselves a little more as her muscles developed and she matured, were mouthwatering. He could not understand how his people could possibly receive her poorly.

They were flown out in the exact same dropship she had flown in on, bringing back some painful yet some positive memories of how much simpler their lives seemed to be when they did not understand each other and when they both had fewer obligations.

Val's jaw dropped at the sight of the monument from the dropship. She had seen the massive building from the residence but getting up close really put it into perspective for her. The spire towered into the sky at a slight angle, flanging at the bottom to form a large circular base for the structure. The entirety of the building was a regal slightly glossy metal alloy.

They and their small armed troop were taken in to the building and shown around before the ceremony was to begin. Oracle was honored that she found his efforts in the design process worthy of her judgment. The base was hollowed out to form a three-story vertical space, with terraces around the outer walls to form a second floor perch. Greenery and waterworks had been brought inside to give life to the interior. In the very center of the building was the escape pod encased in a clear barrier for protection and preservation purposes.

Val felt the waves of nostalgia wash over her. She had been a part of the Sicarian people for nearly a year and a half, but it felt like so much longer. The world she left behind came back for a few seconds as she remembered that it _existed_. "Val Shepard" was dead. The being that inhabited her body was completely different from before, despite having a nearly identical physical appearance. Seeing the pod put her life into perspective; violence had taken away so much, but how much did the gain outweigh the cost?

* * *

Ada Shepard woke up to an assault on her senses. Her back was pressed against a comfortably warm, slightly rough object that felt a lot like high grit sandpaper. Her legs were trapped between something and her waist was enclosed by a much softer feeling object. Just the feeling alone was satisfying. Shepard sighed and snuggled closer.

Her nose was swimming in a wonderful scent: pine and rain… and a hint of roses. She breathed deep and hummed contentedly. Her ears were filled with the wonderful constant thrum of a purr that vibrated through her spine and up to her skull. The tension in her muscles that formed as she brought herself to the waking slowly drained. She turned around and buried her head into the soft, warm pillow, which wrapped itself more tightly around her.

She could lie like that forever.

"Good morning Ada," his voice was barely more than a whisper but she could _feel_ it. It was accented for whatever reason, like French and German. Mmm… sexy-accent Garrus was not helping her fetish with his voice. Shepard had the craziest dream that Garrus had admitted that he loved her and then made amazing, satisfying love to her in a hot spring. She sighed and wished that his words "say it like everything is real, because this is reality," were not just a figment of her imagination.

For example, she specifically remembered that he had taken her translator off her. She should not have understood him. Whatever. As long as she was lucid dreaming she would take advantage of it. Although, she was a little nervous that erotically dreaming about Garrus would alert him of her arousal. Turian smelling really was quite superior.

"Mmm… Good morning Garrus."

She kept her eyes shut, afraid that opening them would destroy the immersion. The sensations currently working on her skin, ears, and nose were real enough that she wanted to savor them for as long as possible. She continued to wrap around the Garrus her mind was dreaming up, hoping that the real one sleeping next to her was not wondering what the hell was going on with her.

It was becoming too real and she was really getting nervous. She opened her eyes and saw Garrus' neck in front of her face. He shifted so that his eyes were slicing into hers.

"Garrus!"

"You seem, soorprised to be in these position…" sexy-accent purred.

"D-did last night… really happen? Did you really…"

"Confess? That I love you?"

"Yes,"

"That really happent Ada,"

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Ada,"

"I don't believe it…"

"Belief it," he purred. He lifted her chin with his talon and pressed his forehead against hers, rolled it just slightly and then continued from a Turian kiss to a very Human kiss. That was proof enough for her and she did her best to return the kiss. Suddenly she was very conscious of her arousal as well as the soreness between her legs from their night. More proof. Oh, but she _needed_ him.

"Garrus…"

"Spireets Ada, are you shore you are ready another… ehh,"

"Not… W-what happened to your voice, Garrus?"

"No translator… I can get eat…"

"Not yet… _oh_," she gasped when his tongue trailed down her neck, "too sore…" she confessed.

"Sorry," he murmured. Something about his voice was more intense than she remembered it.

Garrus moved lifted himself with one arm, and without letting his armor plates leave her skin, he grabbed her omni-tool and strapped it onto her wrist.

"Is that better?" his voice was back to normal: still arousing but not quite like before. It did not really help that they were still naked.

"How were you…"

"Turian: Cipritine, Northern, and Traditional, Human: English, Asari: Standard, Salarian: Sur'voss, Drell: Seryat, Krogan: Common, Batarian: Hegemony Formal. I think that's everything."

"So those are-"

"Languages I speak fluently."

"God and Spirits where did you have the time to learn all of those? You're overpowered," she pouted, forgetting that she spoke Asari and seven human languages which basically put her on par with him.

"Mom is a linguist, your mom spoke English all the time to me, school, Black Ops," he answered simply.

"_My _mom? Really? Well shit… So you can knock down women from every species huh?"

"I suppose you could say that. Although, after last night you needn't concern yourself over my promiscuity. I am a strictly one-Human Turian and always will be. I'm sorry about the… I hope that you weren't… Ugh I can't say it right without sounding like a total ass!"

"Garrus, the night was amazing. So amazing that I thought it was a dream. Painful sure, maybe at the beginning but after a while… Mmm. I guess no one has probably told you before, well because you've never ah… I'm just going to say that you are _huge._ As in, like, I have to keep you locked away so that no one else can discover you huge. And hey, no pain, no epic love-making with the most perfect guy in the galaxy."

"I'm not sure I'm familiar with that expression, Ada," his hips twitched against hers, causing her back to arch a little, "I need some explanation."

"I don't know if I can…" she flushed with embarrassment.

"Don't worry about it," he crooned and shifted his weight closer to her. She remembered to ask about the keel bone _finally_.

"Garrus, this is going to seem like a really odd question but, where is your keel bone?"

"It's been ground off. So has a great deal of my cowl. As a sniper those two fuckers interfere a lot: inhibit LOS and limit my ability to look around."

Shepard shifted back and saw that he was indeed missing most of his keel bone, only a thin and flat strip of bone was left behind in its place.

"Is that going to be a problem Ada?"

"No I like it. I can get so much closer to you," she leaned her head back into his neck and relaxed once again, squirming a little under his talons to get closer.

They lie awake, gently stroking one another for an indeterminate period of time, not wanting to get back into the cold of morning. Shepard pulled back slightly to admire his full-body markings which she found extremely handsome and exotic. She could not stop herself from running her fingers over them and memorizing their shapes. Of course she knew the ones on his face extremely well, but now that she was allowed to see him this way, she felt obligated to get to know the rest of him.

"Alright, time to get up," he said and sat up in the sleeping bag. Shepard groaned.

"Aww… do we have to?"

"If you want to get back by nightfall and have something to eat."

"Damn it. All right," she winced when she moved her legs, the soreness was a little more significant than she thought, "Damn. Garrus… you really were _effective_. So effective that I'm still-"

"Sorry. Allow me to get some medigel; it should ease the pain."

"Thanks."

Garrus reached into his bag and grabbed a packet of medigel, used a talon to open it, then coated his fingers in the gel. Shepard knew what he was planning and sucked in her breath. She saw the ghost of a sly grin as his mandibles twitched slightly.

He flipped her around so that her back was facing him and ghosted his hands down her abdomen to her core, which was threatening to betray her. Her back arched and she moaned when he slipped one finger inside her and then the other and _applied_ the medigel quite _effectively_ and _thoroughly_. Shepard's legs squeezed and she clenched around his fingers. True to his word, the soreness vanished as her skin repaired itself back to way it had been before.

"Garrus," she gasped, "if you keep doing that I'm going to have to let you take me… and then we'd never leave."

He gave one last agonizingly slow stroke and then pulled his fingers back out of her.

"How are you so good at that?"

"I have years of practice."

"W-what? But you said-"

"Just joking. A little. Only doing what feels comfortable and natural. And when you're operating a weapon with a hair-trigger or digging out shrapnel you have to have steady fingers."

"You're comparing my… to a weapon?_ And _a wound?"

"Alright Ada, get your mind out of the gutter," he chuckled.

"How can I when you keep, _oh_," he ran a talon down her abdomen, "doing that?"

"Besides," her purred into her ear and grazed her apex, "there is some truth in that comparison isn't there?"

"Stop teasing otherwise I won't be able to walk,"

"What if I don't want you to walk?"

"I promise you later, but not now."

"Alrighty then," he slid out of the sleeping bag completely and gloriously nude, gorgeous markings and silver skin glinting from the morning sun. Shepard swelled with an intense pride at the sight of her Garrus in his truest, unmodified form. She did notice the lack of the keel bone and ground-down cowl made his profile much thinner; approaching human.

"Like what you see Ada?"

"Fuck yeah! Have you seen that?" she pointed at him. He laughed. Shepard smiled. He seemed to be as fixed as she was after they confessed and connected, "that's _mine_ Garrus. I get to enjoy _that_," she outlined his form with her pointer fingers, "whenever the hell I want."

"Careful Ada, you keep saying things like that and I won't be able to stop myself," he growled as he pulled on a fresh undersuit, "the… urge is still high after waiting for so long."

"I'll make sure to save them for later," Ada crept out of his sleeping bag and over to her things and pulled on her own clothing. They spent the next of half an hour gathering up their gear and trying to keep their hands off one another for the sake of their trip back to the cabin, in which she would not hesitate to tackle him. They ate a small breakfast and then headed out from their alcove into the cavern.

Garrus switched out his omni-blade, another highly classified Black Ops technology, and jammed the long and slender blade into the rock. He signed his and her initials in English script, then Turian Traditional, and then with practiced hands he carved the Vakarian facial markings. Shepard sauntered over and admired his handiwork. Her arms snaked around his waist from the behind and he could feel her head resting on his cowl.

Using a CQC technique he launched her into the air and she squeled. He spun around and, caught her, pulled her against himself, bringing their foreheads to meet.

"Holy shit Garrus, those are some killer dance moves you have there," Shepard joked and then leaned in for the kiss.

"Even better when in bed…"

Shepard pulled away and stared blankly at him then burst out laughing.

"You better _not _be joking Garrus."

"Damn it! I was," he was smirking.

"Such a shame."

"Don't bite off more than you can masticate Shepard."

"Whatever you say hotshot," she was still grinning in his embrace. He let her step down from her perch on his waist.

"Let's go."

"Yes, let's."

They left their sanctum, their place of transformation. Their old decaying spirits had perished there and two new ones reborn. Garrus had forever marked the location as the site of two beings connecting and bonding to form one stronger one; two parts of a whole finally united.

They went forth into a new era.

* * *

She decided in under a minute that the gain outweighed the cost. The Sacrifices of her parents and everyone from the _Starcutter_ would not be lost on the Sicarians. Almost thousand died so that _billions_ could have the opportunity to better the galaxy _forever_.

The Sicarians would actually be able to contribute to the galaxy, unlike the humans when they entered; she expected immediate acceptance of the race into the community, the citadel, and the council. Their society was already flawless; their people were unanimously respectable and tolerant of any being that merit, regardless of the race. The discovery of the Sicarians could be equated to the discovery of the Sol Relay. Val was planning to articulate this in her speech.

They had medical technologies that would improve the standard of living, they had transportation technologies that would make the galaxy run faster, they had made scientific breakthroughs the likes of which the galaxy could possibly never comprehend nor handle.

Hell, they could even give Ada implants to allow her and Garrus to speak Turian to each other without a translator.

Oracle led Honoress throughout the lower floor of the complex and eventually towards the circular chamber at one end which provided a quiet space around the burial site. Her hands flew to her mouth and her eyes welled up when he opened one of the huge double doors and showed her the interior.

The room was medium-sized, about five meters to the ceiling, and circular. In the center was the stand on which the plaque would be placed and then welded down. Just behind the plaque, was a real, tangible, alloy statue of Alan and Hannah Shepard standing with their arms around the other's waist, her father was pointing up towards the ceiling, as if towards the stars. The two were looking in the direction at which he pointed.

Vael'en pulled up his holotool and adjusted something, the room turned completely black and one by one they were surrounded by pinpricks of light. Val looked around with her hands still clamped to her mouth in sadness, gratitude, and dare she say love. Vael'en approached her side and stood next to her in the center of the galaxy. The effect was amazing: the walls seemingly completely vanished leaving nothing but empty space. The holographic stars hung in space and escaped out into the vast expanses, tricking the mind into seeing without walls.

The statue and the placeholder for the plaque remained lit, the center of the milky way. Val was really crying now, the rendition of her parents was perfect, and their pose forever locked in the statue perfectly portrayed their relationship and their personalities. At was almost like they were alive; like they would gladly pull her into their embrace if she walked up and hugged them.

"_Do you like it? This room was my idea, if I may be so proud. I apologize for the intrusion, but the statue is modeled from a picture I found on your mother's omni-tool, please forgive. Our engineers and artists really outdid themselves._"

Val turned and wrapped her arms around his torso. She nodded her head against his uniform and tried her best to keep the tears off it.

"_If those really are tears of happiness… then I am flattered Val,_" Vael'en hummed, using his sonos to pronounce the entire sentence instead of his mouth.

"_Lights know this is more than I deserve… than my family deserves._"

"_Nonsense_," he shifted and she gave up her grasp. He relit the room. Shortly afterwards a team of Sicarians entered the room carrying some equipment with which she would speak. All of them bowed to her at some point as they bustled around the room, hooking up podium and their equipment for filming. A total of five three-Agent camera crew were brought in and stood in the corners of the room waiting with their crazy-looking cameras which were designed to send live, three-dimensional holograms out to the public. An average watcher would be able to change the viewing angle whenever they pleased to whatever they pleased.

"One hour, _Val_," he murmured. A wall of massive Sicarians carrying rifles nearly as tall as she filed in, bowed to Oracle, her, and then formed a line in front of the podium. Soon after, those she had been informed were the council of the 100th entered. She met and spoke shortly with each one, who had the same air of tolerance and respect, bowing before speaking.

It was like meeting the Alien councilors, or the Primarch; these were the highest ranking of their entire _planet_. They were the executive, the be-all end-all and wisest. She spoke with as much formality and due respect as she could muster. All of them were years and years her elders but after so long amongst Sicarian society, she had learned to stop seeing age as a barrier for merit.

For example, the Chief of Guard whom she had recently been acquainted with, Axess Tare'an, was as old as she and commanded Sicarians that had children and others than had grandchildren. However, he had been in the field for years, weeding out small cells of discord amongst the people, and proved himself far more capable than most.

The stage was set, the doors were opened to those with reservations first. Once those filled, the public would be allowed to gather. Val sat down in the very center the council members, almost as if she were a part of it.

Vael'en stood patiently at the podium, completely unmoving.

The guards were in constant communications with air traffic and other guards as they directed the arrivals of thousands of Sicarians who had heard of this event and were eager to watch. The scale of this event was quite lost on her. The _entire_ planet had been given a holiday so that everyone could have the opportunity to watch.

Val did her best to keep the pressure from three and half billion eyes from causing her to slip up.

* * *

Vir'Sicari'an mean Sicarian-kind

I came up with language names for Salarian and Drell common tongues, if there are actually names for them someone PM me.


	17. Monument

I have no idea. The motivation to write just like... stopped. Anyway, sorry for the delay. Here's another chapter of mainly GarrusxShepard fluff :(. I spent like, fifteen chapters building up to it, I think you guys deserve a few chapters of smut.

* * *

The trek back to the cabin was noticeably less brutal than the way there, even though Shepard's legs were still tingling. Her mind kept locking onto dirty images of Garrus grabbing her and making her his in the middle of the open, at the side of the river. However, getting back to the cabin was a priority for her, and getting rammed would make it impossible to stand up.

They sat down for lunch in almost the exact same spot as before, the center of a large, flat boulder that interrupted the path of the river and caused it to flow around the obstacle on one side. Garrus pulled her into his lap and provided a quite soft and comfortable cushion for her while they ate and spoke about what they were going to do once they got back to the cabin, and what it was they loved about one another. Garrus needed to convince her that she was right for him, because she seemed to think that everybody was a better match for him that she.

He was trying to keep images of the two them, entwined, her writing under his touch, out here in the middle of the least and yet most secluded location he could think of. Even though he could carry her all the way back and it would not be any more difficult, she wanted to walk and he was going to do whatever she asked of him.

They returned just before the sun set and Shepard seemed quite eager to get back inside the sanctuary of their cabin. She went right to the large couch in the center of the room and lay back expectantly.

"You really outdid yourself Garrus. Lovemaking in a hotspring in the wilderness then cuddling in a sleeping bag for warmth? I'm getting wet just thinking about it. Oh, you are going to have to work to top that. We have five days left Garrus. If I can walk at any point during that time then you're doing it wrong."

"You're playing with the fire here, Ada," Garrus growled as he approached her and slammed his arms down at her sides, keeping her in place.

"I trust you Garrus. Do with me anything you want. I know you won't hurt me," she leaned back, closed her eyes, and spread her legs slightly, submitting herself.

Garrus decided to take his time again. Every moment was worth more than any amount of material could afford. Shepard wanted to be submissive but he wanted them to be equals.

"I could say the same thing to you Ada," his tongue was trailing a line from her jugular notch to her lips, between which it plunged, "in fact, weren't you saying something about that when we left our sanctuary?"

"Garrus…" she was losing coherence quickly. Good.

"I believe your words were: 'I get to enjoy that whenever the hell I want'?" Their hips were touching through their layers of clothing. The sweet and unique scent of her arousal was driving him now. Turians preferred to cede control to their mates during intercourse as a sign of trust and love, but now he simply could not help himself. He wanted to see her take control, make him hers. If she did not want to walk, then she would have to play dominant.

"So are you going to hold your word?" he purred. Shepard stared at him for a few seconds before she flipped him off the couch and slammed him onto the floor, straddling his waist. She ran her teeth along his neck slowly and then planted kisses on the way back up. Her fingers were quick on his shirt, which was off in seconds.

Her momentary edge of fire was quickly burned out as she leaned back in, slow and careful, afraid that if she commanded uncontrolled lust, that he would respond. As much as she wanted him to lose control and fuck her like a Turian, it seemed a little low to ask him to do such a thing and she wanted to actually enjoy the experience. She sat back on his waist and pulled her own shirt over her head and then released her bra so it would not be destroyed by his talons.

The scrape of his skin was enough to harden her nipples. Shepard slid up his chest so that her breasts were available for him to work on while she made sure to massage his fringe. His purr intensified before turning into a menacing growl. Shepard was given barely any warning before Garrus sat up, hauling the entire combined weights of his torso and her entire body up.

Garrus pinned her beneath him and growled lustfully in her face. He wanted her to feel the rush that he felt when she took control. She needed to know so she could emulate it more often. Part of it was that he was slipping on his control, his body telling him to join with hers as soon as, and then for as long as possible. His marking scent was pouring out of him like liquid and covering her. It was strong enough that she would be able to smell something.

He held his arousal back behind his plates, but it was becoming impossible. His self-control was superior, but Shepard had a way of ripping it out from under him. He made a point to keep her clothing intact, as much as he wanted to rip it off of her.

Shepard was a little surprised to see that he was not out of his plates yet when she finally wrestled his pants off his waist and down his legs. She just managed to twist her hips under his for the leverage to flip them back over, taking her control back. Garrus rewarded her with a purr. Shepard groaned; the foreplay could wait for another session because she was a little short on patience. She swore he had done something to her to make her thirst for him so; she was eighteen, not the age at which sexual depravation should be an issue.

"Why do I want this so much Garrus?" she whispered against his mouth.

"It's the bond," he replied, cryptically, mystified. That expression certainly shocked her.

Perhaps it was some crazy Turian aphrodisiac that he was coating her with; made her want him joined to her as soon as possible for as long as possible. One gentle stroke along his slit opened him up and released the behemoth into her hands, ridges on surface slipping past her clitoris, the slimy lubricant coating her palms. She had considered orally pleasuring and returning the favor that he had given her, but it really was larger than she thought, and she could no longer wait.

"Ada…" he was pleading with her, hands gripping her hips firmly but not painfully. He could easily force himself upon her with his strength, but he had ceded control to her, mentally and physically. She was ready, so ready. She was only a little nervous that she would look down and be unable to look away.

She sat up from his waist and positioned her opening at the tip of his member. The muscles in his abdominals rippled underneath the plating and his torso rose a few inches off the ground. His mandibles were fluttering and his chest was expanding and contracting quickly. Shepard spared him more torture and sat down, pressing a great deal of her weight down for leverage. She kept her eyes locked on his during her slow, unforgiving journey down, afraid of what she would see.

Garrus was aching, keeping his hips from ramming him the rest of the way to her limit was taking all of his strength. He sat up carefully so that their chests were flush, and offered his neck to her. It would be easier to temporarily concentrate on the stinging pain than the pleasure. She bit down and continued to sink. He admired her perseverance, her overwhelming want to take him fully despite her still quite virgin channel.

His back arched when their hips finally met. He could _see_ himself under skin.

"Spirits…" he was content to just stay engrossed in the sensation of being enveloped so. Shepard's legs tensed, pushing away from the ground in an attempt to rise up. Garrus helped her, hands wrapped around her leg to wrench her upwards as far as she wanted to go. The second time she sank down it was little faster, a little more relaxed.

She lasted about five or six more before she was stopped by her climax. Garrus was pulled with her whether or not he was ready or willing. Shepard felt him flood her, the first orgasm always seemed the most intense without the knotting and slow-release of the second or third.

She rode him until her legs wore down and her core was burning, but he was not finished. Shepard endured until he reached his orgasm, relying on his strength to preserve the slow and passionate pace she had started. Finally he met her halfway, slamming all the way back and pressing against her cervix. Instead of crying out she bit down on his neck as hard she could, tears forming from the pain. A low, guttural cry escaped from his throat and chest.

Shepard knew it would only get more painful. But the end result was completely worth it. She gritted her teeth as he knotted and spilled into her. Her legs unfolded from beneath her and wrapped around his back, spreading her just slightly and allowing her to keep her perch more comfortably.

Finally the pain turned to pleasure as her body adjusted and fully absorbed the sensations of his pulsing ridges and his size. His arms were around her back, enclosing her in a protective shell. His purring lulled her and her lids drooped. Her head rested against his chest.

The afterglow was a powerful drug.

"Gar-" her voice was hoarse, despite not having made a sound during their love-making, "Garrus I love you. It feels so good to say that. I love you."

"It feels just as amazing when you hear it. I love you Ada," he murmured, overwhelmed. He still had trouble believing that it was true, because it was too good to be real. Hopes and dreams did not just suddenly occur, they required hard work and time to fully realize. But in one instant she had gone from his best friend and secret interest to his most intense passion, the being to which he was devoted.

He stood up, still very much inside her, and carried her to the bed in his room. He lay their singular body down carefully, so as not to jar her still tender depths. He knew that he had accidentally pushed a little too hard and caused her severe pain. He was ashamed with himself, but in the moment he was only thinking about how to keep her comfortable.

He was still inside her when she fell asleep which did little to help the dispelling of his knot. He stayed within her long after he had finished emptying the contents of his testicles before finally pulling out. She moaned in her sleep.

Without letting his shaft ever contact the air, he slipped back inside himself. He tried not to think about it for fear that it would torture him later.

All kinds of fluids dribbled onto the sheets but they could be washed. Shepard shifted and squirmed a little before settling again and snuggling into his side even more. He finally dropped off to sleep, lovingly wrapping his mate in an embrace.

* * *

Val conversed lightly with the nearest council members for the duration of the remaining hour that Vael'en had given her. The one councilor directly to her right, Kastan Oravos was actually only five years older than she and had been on the council of the 100th for three years already. He spoke to her, his voice seemed a little deeper and slightly rougher than Vael'en's, but not by much. He rolled the 'r' sound slightly more than Vael'en, like a Sicarian version of Garrus.

"The Vael'en of Nostrom," Val noted the article again, "has probably already told you this, but we cannot thank you enough for your contributions to Sicarian-kind. The Vael'en," again with the article, "spoke to me, to us, extensively about all of this… I must say: adjusting to our society the way you have is extraordinary. You are but one amongst billions; your bravery and determination would easily earn you a position in the 100th. Learning our language, the implants, the lengths you have gone to… you know I can see why the Vael'en of Nostrom is so attracted to you. "

"Thank you Councilor Oravos. But you must be mistaken; Vael'en is not attracted to me, at least not romantically."

Oravos looked at her, then back at Vael'en, then back to her. He smiled, but a better description of his expression was a smirk.

"Whatever you say, Val'an," he bowed his head but she got the distinct impression that he was toying with her. Smug bastard. She noticed as well than he called her "Val'an" using the full suite of Sicarian subvocals, which meant that it was actually a word. She knew that the designation "an" meant "sapient and alive," which left her with 'Val,' for which she had no definition. She had heard Vael'en call her that sometimes as well but knew not the actual meaning.

And, for that matter, he had heard even Vael'en call her "Val'an," and sometimes just "Val." She would have to ask him what that meant. She had the sneaking suspicion, that Vael'en was _word_ and not a _name_, which would explain why so many called him "_the_ Vael'en." She shifted uncomfortably. It would be like having "leader," or "person," for a name. She narrowed it down to words involving leadership or command, since that was what he was.

She guessed the reason he had never told her that his name was a word was because he wanted her to believe it a name. She felt sorry for him; even when she found out what "Vael" meant, she would not let it affect the way she addressed him. She guessed that it was by no choice of his that he was referred to as a label.

The wall of guards began to tighten as the first few Sicarians began to funnel into the room. She could just see through the cracks enough to notice that the statue was drawing all kinds of attention. From what she could see, there were some mixed reactions. Most were shocked by it, some enthralled, none disgusted. Val felt a little more confident about her own appearance. She remained silent for the remainder of their hour and reviewed her speech a few times.

Soon the room was packed with Sicarians of all ages, including children and even infants.

All eyes were drawn to Vael'en when he finally moved after an hour of maintaining his exactly position without as much as a twitch of a limb or a slight move on his feet. The monitor crews signaled one another and then him.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen," he spoke with authority, with confidence and strength, every bit a leader, "This structure, started one year and two months ago and completed last month, is dedicated to an event that has forever changed the future of Sicarian-kind. This event, which has been kept dark for the benefit of the two parties involved, is to be fully disclosed today. This endorsement will be brief, so that you may spend time to enjoy this structure and one another before the day ends."

"A year and half ago, an Archlight fell from the stars; she arrived on a starship unlike any we have ever seen before. And in retrospect, with much regret, we mistook escape pods for ordinance and shot them down. Except for one. One pod, by sheer chance survived our ignorant onslaught and brought us first contact with sapient, extremely intelligent life outside of ours. Let me say that it was the best possible mistake that our race has ever made in history. The one survivor, the one Archlight as a singular being of her kind amongst our people, went forth with confidence. Where she could have taken the easy path, she took the much more difficult one. She has learned our history, our culture, and our language. This monument does not even begin to encapsulate what she had done for us, but it will have to serve as reminder of the end of an Era, and the beginning of another. Despite her origins amongst the stars, she will present in Sicarian," Vael'en turned to that she was just in his focus, "It is with humility and great honor that I welcome her today. Please stand in respect for the bringer of our ascension, our entrance into the galaxy, our savior, _Val Shepard_."

Every Sicarian in the room stood up which was her cue to take her place at the podium. She rose from her place amongst the council of the 100th and carefully picked her way to the podium. A quiet murmur arose but her superconscious could sense that the room dynamic was one of surprise and awe before fear and disgust. The heat of their stares centered on the implants visible on her chest.

Val looked out, letting her appearance sink in before she spoke.

"You may be seated," the crowd shifted back into their seats, "I am honored by this opportunity. I have never spoken in front of an entire planet, in addition I have never spoken in a second language to an audience who finds me completely alien, but never before have I possessed so much confidence in the eyes of billions. Sicarian-kind welcomed me, despite being a foreigner, an alien. When I arrived a year and half ago through fire and tribulation and death, the Vael'en," she made a point to use the article, "came to me and gave me a second chance. I have yet to be judged, mocked, turned away by any Sicarian. The galaxy I come from, it is impossible to take two steps before judgment is passed for menial attributes. I cannot thank you enough for your miracles, your hard work to bring me into a Society with which I have no experience. I forgive completely for the destruction of my arrival; it was a misunderstanding and nothing more. That does not mean in the slightest, that it was not a tragedy; anyone innocent is undeserving of death. But misunderstanding and ignorance, intolerance, started a war between my parent's species and another completely alien to us at the time. We lost far more lives because one side could not forgive the other for a mistake. Mistakes, which are meant to be learned from, grown upon, examples of how to go forth with success, have to be taken in stride. So we move on, we forgive but never forget," she paused and took a breath.

"This monument is more than I could ever have imagined, asked for, dreamt of. But I suppose I should speak on its significance to me and Sicarian-kind. When our cruiser arrived here, it was already doomed. We were attacked by pirates who boarded us and ruined our lives, ripped apart families, took away futures. In a manner, I am grateful that my ship was disabled. Justice, hard-earned, was brought on the disgusting creatures that took away everything from the families on board, including mine. The pirates killed my parents as they defended me. My father died with a rifle in his arms, in the arms of my mother. My mother died slowly, after receiving a shot through the neck and bleeding out," Val paused, her eyes glazing as she recalled the exact events perfectly. She could sense that this was dodgy subject for the Sicarians in the room; the whole aura had quickly grounded into sadness and compassion. She veered off of her planed course for a second to address the statue, which she had not accounted for in her speech.

"This statue behind me depicts my parents. Perfectly depicts. They shared a bond that most of their kind never form. Even though it was not biological like that of Sicarians, theirs was nearly equivalent in its power and its clarity. The Vael'en, who headed the design team for this piece, perfectly captured the dynamic between the two: loving, always looking up, always looking forward, and always looking past the surface to find the deeper meaning. When my mother died she promised that she would continue to watch over me, and indeed she has. While it is difficult to say… we would both be dead if she had not given herself up for me. When we landed here, my mother had long since passed away. The Vael'en, with patience and compassion, and absolutely no means of communication verbally, promised me that he would give my mother a proper burial. To my race, this is considered one of the most respectful ways to treat a passed loved-one. So I gave her up. He had a team of scientists examine the body, make medical charts, take DNA samples, do everything in their power to understand me, through my mother. And still, they gave her the respect she deserved. I cannot even say that she would have received the same treatment from her kind."

Vael'en shifted a little uncomfortably. Val knew that he did not like to be reminded that he lied by omission to her. Val seemed to be editing some of the words as she went; she kept referring to humanity as _they_, and Sicarian-kind as _we_.

"My mother was a peace-maker. In the war between her kind and another, she brokered a treaty despite a complete lack of the ability to speak their language. She saved countless lives by making quick work of the misunderstanding and getting onto peace talks as soon as possible. Even in death, she has done the same thing now. She has given me the ability to represent her people, and indeed the entire galaxy, to Sicarian-kind. This monument, while more than we could have ever asked for, is a representation of their achievements and their contributions. When we enter into the galactic community, we will be welcomed because my parents made the ultimate sacrifice for all of us. I do not think, but know that Sicarian-kind is perfectly ready for entrance. But through everything, we can look upon this monument and remember that progress is never made without sacrifice, without mistakes, but most importantly, with understanding and forgiveness."

Val shifted into her other hip and ran a hand through her hair.

"Please enjoy this space. Utilize this space to reflect on their lives and yours, to share time with your mates, your families, for a quiet moment. I hope that this monument can serve as a reminder of the feats of Sicarian-kind, and the feats of _humanity_. _Humans_ have a saying: _To err is mortal, to forgive divine_. To ignore is mortal, to see below the surface is transcendent. It appears that I have stumbled upon on a race of transcendent beings, and becoming one is what I desire most. Thank you."

The crowd was silent for a moment before they stood and applauded, sounding their congratulations through their subvocals. Oracle looked upon her with love-struck eyes, holding himself back for the sake of the councilors around him. Oravos had an especially powerful superconscious; he was prone catch glimpses of the future and was next in line for the position of Oracle should he die, which was due to occur in three years.

Even despite her current inability to predict, he would rather hand off leadership to Val. She was inspired when she spoke, brave in eyes of billions without a flinch. Even many of the council members were nervous when they had to stand in front of a large crowd and speak.

His air cords convulsed in a cough and he covered his mouth respectfully. When he drew his hand away, there were small flecks of amber blood on his glove. He had certainly not expected the signs to begin this early, but he was not surprised. He would have to talk to Sevist about it but he could practically hear the conversation.

Oravos shot him a worried glance and concerned warble. Oracle simply dismissed him. Oracle was handed the plaque by one of the councilors and he took it up with him for the conclusion of the ceremony. He winced in advance, knowing that she was going to call him by his label. She had figured it out.

"Please rise in respect for the Vael'en of Nostrom," Val commanded, wondering where the sudden outburst came from. The entire room rose; she was not sure if it was because she asked them, or because they knew that Vael'en was about to take the podium.

"Thank you Val'an," Oracle winced at his own blunder, "I hereby present you with this plaque, to fully complete this space as a commemorative monument to all that you have brought to us. I grant you the honor of its placement."

"Thank you," she replied graciously, receiving the plaque and ceremoniously carrying the block of metal over to the black holding station in front of the statue. Val pressed the metal plate into its place and it adhered with a click. The signatures on the plaque lit softly with the influx of the electricity. Val tried to not stare and wonder what the hell they had put in the diamond to make it behave in such a way.

Val swore she saw the statue of her mother blink and smile.

"We kept this ceremony a little short for your convenience," Vael'en concluded, "this space is now public. You may now rise and proceed, thank you. On my honor."

"On our honor, Vael!" the entire crowd replied as if scripted. They rose and began milling about, discussing the event and the building.

Vael'en brought Val forward for those Sicarians that wanted to meet her and speak briefly. Most wanted proof that she was really speaking Sicarian, and that she was not simply using some kind of prerecording. She quickly dismissed that assumption. The elders expressed their sympathy for her losses and gratitude for her hard work, as well as compliments on her speech. Some brave younglings who were simply curious about her asked simple questions about her species like why she had so many fringes on her head, or what the things sticking off the side of her head were.

Oracle coughed again, sending more flecks of his blood onto his glove.

* * *

Garrus and Shepard made sure she could not walk for the next few days, taking full advantage of their freedom to open the other up whenever they pleased. Their hunger was insatiable. They went at it especially passionately on the last day together at _Domsaltus_. Shepard was to see a therapist for confirmation that her "depression" was "cured" to obtain the proper paper-work so she could return to Anderson.

For the first time a sparring match actually relieved tension. They threw strikes and dodges at one another until inevitably, Garrus pinned her face-down on the mat. Shepard could finally live her fantasy of being taken this way and invited him readily by raising her hips against his. A set of Human and Turian sparring clothing was ruined in seconds as his talons made quick work of them.

He spared her the humiliation of making her beg, and sheathed himself, stretching her tight channel over him. The entrance was getting a little less painful each time. Ada was not sure if it was because her body was adjusting or she was getting used to it. He always entered slowly. He pushed all the way until his hips met her bottom.

"Now we can _really _test that flexibility of yours," Garrus melted her with his voice. The arm not being used to pin her slid under one leg and brought it up around her shoulder, even she did not know she was _that_ flexible. The notion that Garrus knew her body better than she did made her slicker. Her torso was freed from the ground. The other arm slammed down next to her for stability. The spread of her legs allowed him access as deep as her limit and he slid in farther. They both gasped.

Shepard arched her back for a better angle. The first thrust raised her hips from the ground and she cried out in pain and pleasure. The leg that had been on the ground previously was now wriggling around uncontrollably.

"H-How do you k-know," her question was cut off by the second thrust which came dangerously close to her cervix. Shepard was not one to moan, but she moaned.

Garrus loved how he could completely let loose and his body would react accordingly to maximize their pleasure without tearing her to bits; one of the perks of being bonded. Even at full capacity, he could read how deep and how swift to make his thrusts so that he could not go any higher. His mind could trick him into thinking that he was dedicating his entire reserve of energy to making love to her. Primal and feral was all fine and good, but he could only do so once she was ready.

Eventually he changed their position to that he could watch her expression as he moved within her. He was moving slightly faster by the time he finished her and himself off. He could never quite get over how wonderful she felt, tight but just big enough for all of him. He stayed locked inside her for a long time while they both panted. Just when he was about ready to pull out he noticed just how close their bodies were, how deep inside her he was buried, how tight she was, and his urges returned for longer, his ridges rose a little more. Shepard's skin was slightly red from the chafing, but his skin was not nearly as abrasive as some other Turians, a hallmark of the Vakarian line.

"Uh… Garrus?" she asked after a while. He had not receded in the slightest for ten minutes.

"I think… I'm desperate to stay with you. I don't think that my body wants to leave. Perhaps it's the years of repressing what I never had the courage to talk to you about rushing up. I don't want to let you go Ada, I… just can't do it. I am living my greatest, my most wonderful dream, Ada. Spirits I don't think words are going to work… I can't fully describe…" he trailed off.

Ada was overwhelmed by his vulnerability, his sadness, his regret. This was yet another Garrus, the lover Garrus that she was still adapting to. She shifted a little and his arm went around her bottom to provide her some support. His ridges were still fluttering and gently stimulating her inner walls. She made the best of it and rested her head on his neck, thanking the lack of his keel bone for the extra space.

"How long do you think this will take? Not that I really care," she quickly amended, admitting to him and herself that the feeling of him so deep inside her, unifying their bodies was comfortable despite how odd it was. Shepard stroked him through her skin.

"I have no idea. But as long as you don't mind then neither do I. I love how close we are, how we become parts of the same whole. I can't stop thinking about it… how comfortable you are, how much I love you, how much you complete my life, which is probably the reason I haven't let go yet."

"Closet romantic," she mumbled, "I'm telling you Garrus. Just don't pull that shit on anyone besides me, because I'm the only one that withstand it. Mostly…"

"I wasn't planning on it."

Garrus felt a twitch, finally.

"Are you up for a shower?"

"I could use one after the sparring match. Then the rematch," she replied quietly, "but something tells me you don't plan on leaving the shower cleaner."

Garrus started to recede and Shepard groaned. He worked his way to the shower so that the fluids he had pumped into her could exit without ruining the mat or getting all over the floors. The water went on just as he pulled out of her. The seed he had trapped ran freely down her legs, and was washed off by the cascading water.

"Spirits Shepard you look beautiful when wet."

"And ugly when dry, thanks Garrus."

"Because that's totally what I meant. I was going to go full closet romantic on you, but you've ruined your chances."

Shepard pouted.

"Me and my big mouth," they had not tested that. Shepard was nervous that he might accidentally break her jaw if she began to suck and he suddenly swelled. Garrus had not pushed her into it or anything; she would try oral with him when she felt ready.

There was something ritualistic about the way Garrus washed her first, carefully, thoroughly, massaging her muscles and skin under the stream of hot water. He grabbed a small tube of medigel and applied it quite lovingly to her cuts from his talons, the raw patches of skin that made the most contact, and her vagina to make sure that it was less painful for her to stand on her own two feet.

She gave him the same attentions spare the medigel, working her fingers under the cracks in his plating with soap, especially those on his back. She got back at him when she dug her fingers into his slit and washed him out to the best of her abilities. He released a long and guttural moan as she got deeper and deeper with her fingers. She stopped when she was wrist deep, surprised that he was not all over her yet. He must have really worn himself down.

"Oh Spirits Ada if I had the energy I would not hesitate to get inside you."

"It's a good thing you don't have the energy," she shoved her hand slightly deeper, finally finding the end of his cavity. She continued to rub and massage, "because otherwise you would never be clean."

"You're one to talk," he said, amused.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she smirked and moved her hips as close to his as possible.

"You might want to remove your hand," he was still smirking, "I'm about to get all dirty again."

What felt like pores along his insides opened up and flooded the cavity with lubricant before his muscles convulsed and he began to harden. Shepard aligned herself with his opening and guided him into her without losing contact, without letting him touch the air. She bit her lip as she could not help but watch herself expand around him.

"Spirits Ada, you really just did that… I can't even…" he was growling.

Shepard prepared herself; it was going to be rough. Finally. He began slow but sped up so fast that she barely had time to breathe. He really was not holding back; each thrust was powerful and sharp, bringing his tip within millimeters of her limit. He started to draw blood but she could care less, it just meant that it was working. The pain became so monotonous that only the pleasure was left it its wake. She convulsed and climaxed but he did not slow, a fire in his eyes that made her want him more.

Shepard could not sustain herself and eventually fell limp. Garrus followed suit and put her into another lock. They held still for a moment to let the water run some of the fluids off their legs. Garrus turned the water off and dried them off to the bets of his ability. With Shepard still wrapped around him he brought her back to the bed and laid down. He wanted to stay this way for as long as possible.

She fell asleep before him like always, and he followed still unified to her body. Separation from her, Alfa Dexteras, was going to take its toll, but it would be worth it. He had a future with Shepard.


	18. The Sad Truths

Speeding things up a little maybe...

* * *

Right after the speech she had asked him the question that he wanted to avoid answering for her since their introduction.

"What does Vael'en mean?"

Oracle swiveled her out of his gaze and ran a hand across his fringes.

"It means _protector of ours; Oracle is the appropriate word_. I am a leader, but I also foresee events and correct for them; so that they occur."

"_Oracle?_ _That's what I've been calling you this whole time?_" her subvocals betrayed surprise, "_Let me guess, you did not chose that name…_"

Suddenly it made so much sense. "The Oracle of Nostrom." She felt so sorry that he had to be given a title as a name.

"_Right. Everyone called me that growing up so it is what I respond to. I do not… really like being called by a label. It is a curse, everyone stays away from me because they feel I am some sort of sacred Archlight. _Untouchable, unachievable, transcendent, but worst of all, expendable."

"_What? Expendable? What the hell are you talking about? How could anyone think that you are expendable?"_

"Oracles are like objects, Val'an, I mean _Val-_"

"_Also what does _Val'an_ mean? I've heard you call me that a few times. Councillor _Oravos_ called me that also._"

"Damn it all I… cannot help myself sometimes. "Val" means _honor, respect, loyalty, camaraderie,_ _and _"an" means_ sapient, the embodiment of, alive_. Honore or Honoress is a title reserved for the highest ranking members of Sicarian society. One only calls another Honore or Honoress if they really mean it. Most of the 100th are not considered Honore or Honoress."

Her subvocals were wavering with all sorts of emotions.

"_Thank you? But isn't that just as bad as _Oracle?"

"Not in the slightest. The death of an Honore or Honoress is mourned for months and remembered for years by many. They interact with society and people are not afraid to speak with them and befriend them. They touch far more than the Oracle ever does. When I die," he cut himself off before he said _in three years_, "No one will really notice. No one will really care. Sure there will be a planet wide announcement, and there will be a cremation ceremony. But ultimately I will just be replaced by the next in line and that will be the end of that."

Val was gaping at him.

"_There is no way you are serious right now. That has to be bullshit_," she was really upset by the whole thing. Vael'en, whom she refused to think of as "Oracle" even though she now knew the definition of the word, seemed like he was completely okay with all of this.

"Oracle, I can read your emotions, you do not sound concerned in the slightest!" she was still shocked.

"Why should I be concerned?"

"Because… well… do you not want people to remember you after you die? Do you not want people to care about your life?"

When nothing is going to matter in the end, _Val_ _Shepard_, when the one person you want to care for you the most does not, it simply matters not. When _you_ care for me, love, I will be very concerned over my death. But as far as I'm concerned, the sooner the better.

"It is a luxury with which I need not concern myself. What does it matter to me after I am dead? I cannot look down from the diamond canopy and see people mourning for me, remembering me, or should I say, not remembering me and not mourning me."

Val was speechless.

"Any guesses as to what the last Oracle was named?"

After a pause he outright told her.

"It was Oracle. And how much about him have you heard?"

Another pause.

"Nothing. My individuality was taken at birth; I pass on the Oracle line and gift. The Oracle does not die, just the carriers."

Val continued to find herself incapable of understanding his reasoning, his emotions, his fucking _indifference_! He spoke as if he had nothing to live for; nothing to keep him going. She could feel that something was afflicting him like a weight crushing the life out of his chest. The Vael'en she wanted to return to was the one from the earliest days of their communication. Upbeat, awestricken, happy, patient. A dreamer.

She could feel… three years. What? Something was going to happen in three years. Val had no idea where the thought came from but she knew that it was important. It kept nagging her and she could not keep it out of her head. Maybe it was Vael'en dumping thoughts into his subconscious. Three years was probably some major event like the completion of their fleet or the discovery of a relay in their system. Hopefully

"What is the matter Oracle? You seem… afflicted," she trilled out her worry on her subvocals and radiated concern out of her meager superconscious. Oracle appeared to think for a few moments before answering.

"Illness."

"Dare I ask what it is?"

"A few of heart cords are thinner than normal. Occasionally they drop blood into my breathing cords and I cough it out. Nothing too serious," his rather unconcerned tone and nonchalant attitude towards it convinced her there was nothing to worry about. He had no reason to lie to her. Or if he was, then it was for her own good.

That night Val had a new nightmare.

* * *

She found herself kneeling by Oracle's side as every breath of his was a struggle. His amber colored blood poured from his mouth, drowning him. The two of them were in the midst of a thick crowd of Sicarians who were passing them by like neither of them existed.

"Vael'en!" she cried, "someone help! Can you not see he is dying?"

A random Sicarian split from the crowd and knelt beside her.

"What is wrong Honoress? You seem distressed," his tone was clam. How could he? Of course she was fucking _distressed_. Her friend and secret love interest was dying and _nobody_ was attempting to help. He was the leader of the damn planet!

"Of course something is wrong! Oracle is dying and he needs help right now!"

The Sicarian looked at the body she indicated.

"Do not worry, Honoress, the Oracle will not die."

"What… Then do something! Do not just stand around and let him die!"

"Why?"

"What do you mean why?" she was angry.

"Please forgive me Honoress, I did not mean to anger you."

"How can I not be angry when my best friend, the leader of our planet, is dying and no one is helping him?"

"What do you mean? The Oracle has no friends… how can an object have friends, loved ones? An object does not feel."

"But he's a person-"

Oracle was still now. She turned back and felt nothing with her superconscious when she reached out. He was dead.

"No…"

"Worry not Honoress, he is still alive, just in a different body."

"No… Vael'en…"

"Yes?"

Another voice joined the conversation. Val looked up from the corpse and saw a rock-grey and amber-eyed Sicarian standing over them. He looked so different from her friend, even though his eye and skin color was the same. That was not her Vael'en.

"Who are you?"

"I am the Oracle."

"But he is Oracle," she motioned at the body.

"I apologize… but that is incorrect. He passed on the gift and now goes nameless. He will be cremated and ascend to join with the previous carriers."

"But… then no one will remember him…" she whispered. Oracle bent down and lifted her chin with a finger.

"Honoress, no one cared about his carrier."

"He had friends, family members, _me_!"

"What was his birth name?"

She trilled in confusion.

"His birth name? Do you know what it was?"

"No?"

"Then you are wrong. His friends and family members cared only because he carried the Oracle, because it was their obligation to raise and look after the carrier of the gift. Do you not understand? You are friends with the Oracle, _not_ the carrier. The Oracle _never_ dies, it is an ongoing being. The carrier is unimportant, Honoress, meaningless. I carry the gift now and it is my honor, but also my curse. My body is already dead. But if you truly cared for Oracle you would have evidence of his individuality. Otherwise you care for me as much as him."

"But I-"

Oracle laughed.

"Then love me. I would gladly accept your bonding request and love you with all of my heart."

No, those were the words she wanted to hear from _him_ not this complete stranger. How was it that the stranger was already admitting love for her? They had only spoken for a couple of minutes.

"Of course, you are entitled to your desires, but necrophilia does have a social stigma. Come along Honoress, we have to return home."

"You cannot just leave him here…"

"Why not?"

Val was crying now. This was far too cruel to really be true.

* * *

She woke up crying with Oracle at her side soothing her and reassuring her that it was just a nightmare.

"What is true Oracle?" the alarm and the intense sadness shone through no all fronts.

"What? Was what true?"

"That people only care about you because you carry the Oracle?"

"That is mostly true, yes."

"No… I must be dreaming still…"

"You are fully awake. What happened?"

"You died… bled out in the middle of a crowded space. No one helped you and you just died… in agony. Then I was told by the next Oracle that the only reason people cared about you was because you were the carrier of the gift, the embodiment of the Oracle, an object," she was still crying, if this was reality then she wanted to have nothing to do with it, "Please tell me your parents love you because you are their son. Please tell me people see you as a person and not an object."

"Of course they do. You did not think that just because I am the Oracle equates to being perceived as little more than an object?"

"But you said-"

"What I said was true, _Val_, but my parents and my friends do not see Oracle when they look upon me. Some of the public do as well."

"Oh thank the Lights."

"But it is still true than when the carrier passes, the vast majority of the public does not really care."

"I just cannot understand. I have not been conditioned to think about you like that. And then he said… what is your birth name?"

"Are you asking me a question or are you telling me what he asked you."

"I am asking you what your birth name is."

"I… the Oracle does not divulge that information…"

She questioned with her subvocals: _Why not_?

"It is a mark of individuality, it is Sacred. Using the name is equivalent to cursing or spouting heresy. It would end one era of the Oracle and begin another. So far there has been only one era."

Val was shaking her head. Oracle knew he was wading into deep and torrential waters, but he continued.

"It is a different matter if the Oracle takes a mate. Then the mark of individuality is signed with the bond and the name can be revealed to the mate and the mate alone. If they have a family then the name becomes available to the public. Only one Oracle has ever taken a mate; the first one, the one with the gift."

Val was silent for a few moments, thinking about what he had said.

"Thank you Oracle, I just want you to know that I care about you," she hummed and then drifted back off to sleep while he knelt beside her, convincing himself that she did not know enough about Sicarians still to know what _that_ phrase meant.

Love, to Sicarians, was like an on and off switch. A fragile thing, it could only be turned on but never off, and once it was on, it was _on_. A Sicarian was either completely and utterly enamored, or not at all. Humans clearly had a range of affections. Adapting to it was difficult, so against the grain, but he could learn.

* * *

Val's speech had been received extremely well. As well as he could have hoped for. The news bulletins were raving about the entrance of an alien into their ranks and being able to speak with such proficiency after a year. There were some critics that thought a year of keeping her hidden was extreme, but most were understanding of Oracle's reasoning. Exposing her to the public without preparing her first would have been a disaster.

Some of those who had the pleasure of speaking to her at the reception after the speech had been interviewed and all were generally surprised by her character, her confidence, her very conflicting light-hearted seriousness. What upset him was how at least two of the interviewees mentioned that she seemed a perfect match for the Oracle, and that the dawn of a new era seemed appropriate. He had to scratch his head wondering where it was they had gotten that idea. Neither of them had been projecting those kinds of thoughts.

Well at least Val had not. He might have let something slip accidentally.

But with her appearance and shockingly perfect reception, he would allow her to mill about during the day in Vir'atras as she pleased. He had her registered as a Sicarian citizen and produced a valid ID for her. He opened a funding account for her that would transfer funds whenever she made a purchase essentially granting her unlimited access to his family's wealth. He would probably allow her to go wherever she pleased on all of Eval'en, he did not really have any issues with her decisions. At this point, she could probably even test into a percentile and get a sustaining job. A home.

A mate to keep her company. Only every Sicarian male would instantly be enamored with her.

He coughed more spots of blood onto his hand.

The next morning he dropped Val with his Chief of Guard and then took off for work.

Val would get to know Axess Tare'an quite well during her second year. He was to be her escort when they went out in public. At only sixteen he was a head taller than her, his armor made him taller. His rifle was nearly as tall as she was and he held it like it weighed nothing.

He was handsome for a Sicarian, and she knew what Sicarians found attractive by this point. His skin was maroon with lighter crimson camouflage stripes. His eyes were a lively hue of yellow, and reminded her of the sun upon the horizon. But not as much as… Oracle's. His posterior wings were large, still smaller than Oracles, which was considered attractive in males. His mandibles were clipped to fit inside a helmet which was the Sicarian equivalent of a close shave. Oracle's were sexier. Val could not stop comparing every Sicarian male to Oracle and finding that Oracle looked better than all of them.

"Salutations _Val Shepard_," Tare'an pronounced her name with what was like an Italian accent; it was quite attractive of him. He seemed uncharacteristically shy around her for a Sicarian. More specifically the Chief of Guard.

"Axess Tare'an, wonderful to meet you. And your rifle," she applied humor. He chuckled awkwardly. He was adorable.

"Thank you. I have a feeling that you, me, and my rifle will be very good friends. The Oracle has asked to take on the task of keeping you company in public, should anyone get any… silly ideas."

"Did you just say what I think you said? As long as you walk around with me I can go out and meet people?"

"Of course. Although, I think it not a problem. You were received… quite well by the public. Have you kept up with the news?"

"I have. But I do have to thank Oracle; I have been asking him for this for so long."

"Then I suppose you welcome this?"

"Absolutely."

"Just… be very careful in public. Most will be thrilled to see you, but some will inevitably be disturbed or angry. They might lash out, either verbally or physically."

"I can handle their assaults, at least verbally. Oracle clearly foresaw physical assault, which is why I have you around."

He hummed happily.

"So, what exactly are my freedoms?"

"He told me to take you wherever you want. He has given you full access to his family's wealth and status."

"_What?_"

"What was that?"

"Sorry, it was English."

Instead she just trilled: _what?_

"Need I repeat myself, or is that a rhetorical 'what?'"

"Rhetorical. I just do not really understand why he would do such a thing…"

"He trusts you."

Um… not in the Sicarian sense of the term. Unless there was something she was missing about the signals he gave off every time they were in the same room together. Hearing it from someone else was weird though. She brushed it off as a slip of the tongue and simply ignored it.

"So… does this mean I can-"

"You can do whatever you please. The Oracle has created you a citizenship ID and opened up a funding account for you with a bottomless transfer link. As far as society is concerned, you no longer required to stay here. You can purchase goods and property, find a job, utilize any and all publicly available services, you could even find a mate and bond. Although, I do not know if you can because… can you?"

"I cannot."

"Then scratch that last part."

Her heart sank. Even if she loved her Vael'en, it would not count for shit.

"_I don't think I'll be leaving here for a long time_," she murmured without giving it too much thought.

"What was that?"

"Sorry, I was just thinking with my mouth. I guess the first place I would like to go see is Vir'atras."

"Right this way."

Tare'an guided her into a smaller, personal flight craft with enough space in the back to seat up to six Sicarians. Tare'an piloted the craft away from the residence.

Some about leaving the residence struck her. Oracle should not have to feel like giving her all of these rights and these privileges was necessary. The rights she had now as a Sicarian were liberating, of course, but she had a sinking feeling that Oracle wanted her to leave and find her own life away from him; having nothing more to do with him. Maybe this was the nightmare, because the last thing she wanted was for their friendship to be ruined.

Vir'atras was stunningly beautiful and disturbingly clean. The advent of flying vehicles had eliminated roads completely, but the space for the roads was still there. The walkways were four lanes wide, spotless concrete lined with plants and occasional basins of water. Sicarians were milling about, mostly in male-female pairs, but some were singular. Tare'an walked behind Val, clearly marking him as a nothing more than a guard. He tried not to scare off those simply wanted to meet her, demonstrate respect, and ask her some questions.

She dragged him into an adornments artisan shop in which she planned to purchase a crest. She had seen both male and females wearing the thin metal bands on their heads. She had looked up their cultural significance, being as careful as possible to make sure that wearing one did not place some kind of social label on her. But no, it was simply considered clothing.

The female behind the counter widened her eyes and shifted her lenses in surprise that the Honoress was in her and mate's outlet. She eyed the quite attractive but quite young Sicarian guard of hers for a moment before she bowed her head in respect.

"Honoress, it is an honor. How may I help you?"

Honoress trilled politely. She was happy that the Oracle had finally found someone worthy of his bond, even if she was not Sicarian.

"A crest, please. Nothing too intricate."

She glanced at Honoress' head and nodded. It would be simpler than fitting a Sicarian because there were no fringes in the way. However, it would be trickier to keep the crest in one place because there were no fringes to hold it down or clip to.

"Right away… Vir'a!"

Vir'a. Val thought for a second. "Life of mine," translated directly. She assumed it was what mates called each other.

"What is it vir'a!" her mate responded from the forging quarters.

"We have a special guest!"

"I will be but a moment," her mate froze in the doorway when he caught sight of Honoress. He stared for a moment and she smiled encouragingly. He could not help but bow. She was not the Oracle, but she was close.

"If I heard correctly, was it a crest you wanted, Honoress?"

"Yes."

Their subvocals were firing off to one another. She caught some of it.

This is not a dream right?

_Right._

_What if I ruin it?_

_Do not worry, you have been doing this for decades._

_What if she does not like it._

_You will do fine_ "Vir'a," she accidentally said out loud.

"Right, sorry. Please come with me Honoress."

The quite young but quite dangerous guard of hers shifted uncomfortably. The female gave him a reassuring warble. She told him it was okay to follow and make sure that her mate was not going to kill Honoress if it really made him feel better. He respectfully declined, trusting her.

Val held herself still while the Sicarian snapped a hologram of her head using a precision scanner and glanced over the measurements. He positioned the hologram in space and then made a few graceful swipes around it with his hands, forming the object carefully. Val leaned forward and watched the master at work as he sculpted the crest carefully, smoothly, adding little details.

He stopped after a while. Val could feel the nervousness in his nervous system as he rotated the hologram of her head towards her so she could see how the object would look sitting on her hair. She thought it spoke of her and smiled to let him know that she approved. Just to be sure she replied to his subvocal question with the affirmative.

After just a few minutes waiting for the synthesizer to create the object, she wore it proudly atop her head. It fit snugly, the slightly golden alloy glistened nicely with auburn hair.

"How much?" she asked, readying a funds transfer.

"Oh, no no no. We are not charging for this," he replied, panicked, as they walked back out into the main room with everything on display.

"How much do they normally cost?" she would get her answer.

"Five thousand-," his mate clamped a hand over his mouth.

"Done. Thank you," she transferred seven thousand, "It was wonderful to meet you both. This crest is beautiful," She gave them a smile and then left with Tare'an in tow, their expressions blank.

"I hope Oracle does not mind," she felt a little guilty for letting herself feel liberal with the funds he was granting her.

"Seven thousand?" Tare'an sounded amused "Like a dewdrop upon a roaring river. Most of the money you gave them will end up back in his family's account. You could purchase a starship and it would barely change anything. Not that I am suggesting you purchase a starship."

Val sighed and touched the symbol of wealth she was wearing on her head, slightly regretting her purchase.

She wore the crest every day. Inevitably, when Oracle returned he saw her wearing it and coughed up a little more blood. It was painful how beautiful she was, and he could not indulge and just _tell_ her how much he wanted her, how he loved everything about her. How he was _dying_ because she could never love like he loved her.

* * *

The second year was slightly easier for both of them than the first year, almost like the first few months were Val was still in the stages of discovery. In addition, with most of the projects underway and autonomous, Oracle had much less actual work to do and more free time to spend around her. She had fewer nightmares and seemed to be changing quickly. She shot up a few centimeters in height, her strength was ever-increasing, her fringes seemed to stop shortening right at about neck level as Sevist had predicted.

Val noticed the changes in herself. When she turned seventeen her maxes were so high that she could probably pick up her sister with one arm. But her strength was not stopping there, and she had years to go before her muscles were entirely transformed. She was concerned when her menstrual cycle stopped all together but decided that living with it was better than explaining to Oracle what the issue was.

Although, Sevist had pulled her aside and had her speak to his mate, also a doctor, about any kind of feminine concerns she may have. She confided her problem and received a quite blunt explanation of the female Sicarian heat cycle which was surprisingly helpful.

She continued to meet with the ever-maturing and ever-developing children who picked up everything she spoke without needing it to be repeated. All of her group could speak to her and each other in English, even though it was heavily accented. She was proud of them. She reached into their lives and got to know them as individuals, an act which immediately earned her more respect from their parents. She found out things about her students that they had apparently kept from the parents out of fear.

The eldest in the class, a male Sicarian aged fifteen who had just finished growing out his wings by the name of Korvos Anteras, was an engineer at heart. He was a mechanist; she saw that he could make life out of circuits and alloys. The only problem was that his parents were high percentile, and the career path he desired would require him to drop down on the scale.

He was nervous that his parents would disown him. But she had spoken with the Anteras family, and they simply wanted their son to do what he loved. When she revealed he wanted to go into technology they were happy in his choice despite the percentile drop. They were proud even, that their son was so much brighter than they thought, and could brilliantly contribute to Sicarian-kind. They thanked her deeply and promised to speak with him. After that, his demeanor was generally better, he had a lighter attitude, and he performed better than before.

Tare'an and Val grew closer as friends, he started to pick up English and by the end of the year he was speaking in heavily accented, but grammatically correct sentences. If her heart was not set on other pursuits, he would have courted her and asked her to bond with him. She was beautiful, a dream, a vision, truly an Archlight. An alien was more of a Sicarian female than most Sicarian females. But she and Oracle had a thing going on which stopped his heart from looking to her for romance. Thank the Lights Sicarians had a possession and denial system built in to their superconscious. One day he would find his match, just not in Honoress.

Val treasured her time with Oracle in a strange different way than she did with Tare'an. Speaking with Oracle was like looking through a window at her impossible hopes and dreams, and speaking with Tare'an was like speaking to a genuine friend.

Towards the end of the second year Tare'an began to teach her how to spar Sicarian-style. She picked it up quickly and preferred it to weight-lifting as exercise. Though she was completely unable come even close to Tare'an's level of mastery, he went easy to show her maneuvers and allow her to get a feel for the movements. The lack of wings was an issue, because many attacks and dodges were based around using them for movement. They worked around those.

At night she continued to have dreams about Oracle, about losing him and about how guilty and conflicted she felt. She would wake up alone, cheeks streaked with tears, and miss him. It was dreadful.

The last day before she turned eighteen she noticed something. It had been when she was brushing her hair back in the low light just before she went off to sleep and lent her mind to her nightmares. At the edge of her right iris, there it was:

A little glowing electric blue speck, a tiny pinpoint of light.

She blinked to clear her vision but it remained. She leaned into the mirror and try to concentrate on it and scrutinize it, but it vanished. She blinked a few more times and shook her head. She closed her eyes and hoped to the Lights that she was not going insane.

She went back to thinking about Oracle and opened her eyes. The pinpoint was there again. It reminded her of Sicarian bioluminescence, the kind she would use to court Oracle if she had any. In her sorrow and thoughts about Oracle, the pinpoint intensified. She looked away from the mirror and tried to hide her insanity from herself.

She did not notice the thin, strikingly vivid cobalt sliver on her back that was glowing as well.

* * *

Ada was wrapped comfortably around a purring Garrus as the sunlight began streaming in through the enormous window. She groaned, the soreness in her legs and groin was unlike any other, but more importantly she did _not_ want to leave her Garrus Vakarian. She pulled him closer and wriggled under his weight a little more. Garrus squeezed her closer. Shepard relished everything about the situation refusing to let it end so quickly. The warmth, how arousing the feeling of his bared hips flush to hers was, how safe she felt buried between his carapace, his arms, and the sheets.

Garrus knew they had to get up and go, but he was busy concentrating the feeling of his Ada Shepard, his mate, so close to him. He cracked open his eyes and gazed upon her. It would be the last time he would get to see her wake up so happy, peacefully, contentedly, for a long time.

"Ada, as much as I hate to say it. Oh Spirits I _hate_ to say it, but we have to get up and pack our things."

"Mmm… but Garrus…"

"I know Ada, I really like it," he ran his hands over her smooth buttocks and down her thighs, "very round, very smooth. I like it. And don't get me started on your waist, because then we'd never get out of here."

"I don't wanna…" she buried her head into his chest and tightened her grip on him.

He sighed, then threw the thin covers off of their bodies, hoisted them up, marched into the bathroom and then turned on the water to warm enough for her, and then peeled her off of himself and left her on the floor. The shock of the water appeared to wake her up and she stood quickly and looked around for a moment before her eyes landed on him.

"Sorry. Aren't you going to join me Garrus?" she asked attempting to seduce him with her voice.

"Ada," he purred and sauntered up to the glass, "do you see that right there?" he pointed at the soap. He could see her imagining all of the wonderful dirty things he could do with that bottle of soap, "use it to wash your skin."

"Aww-"

"Do it! I can't keep doing this for long Ada, the longer I stare the longer I get," he left her and went the guest shower to clean himself.

They ate breakfast and Garrus received a wave of seduction attempts that involved him and her and eating. All he did was chuckle and shut her down. As much as he wanted to give her one last complete and satisfying demonstration of his love, it would take too long, especially because he knotted with her for so long during his final climax. They washed their clothing then packed up everything they had brought to _Domsaltus_. Finally they made it out of the house, their place of miracles, and left. Garrus and Shepard were repaired.

At sunset when they arrived at the Vakarian's residence the capital of Concordia, it was deserted. He hauled his things and hers into the house, quickly packed some additional items that he wanted to bring to Alfa Dexteras and headed for the door. He informed Ada that his parents would be back soon to make sure she settled in for the night and then take her the next morning to see the therapist.

She followed him out of the house to the front area.

"Goodbye Ada," he murmured, his face close to hers, "I have something for you, something personal, something to connect us no matter where we are."

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a talon, his to be exact, on a chain, one of the more extreme forms of a Turian love promise, a symbol of intense devotion. He fastened the chain around her neck.

"Never forget how much I love you Ada. I will wait for you. Always. I will never leave you, I will never move on. I will make every effort to see you when Alfa Dexteras gives me a chance."

Her eyes were glazed over as he said all the words she ached for, dreamed for, and longed for.

"My closet romantic," she sob-laughed, "my cheesy, my overly-romantic… Garrus. I love you so much it hurts me. I will wait. If you die out there, I will wait to join you in the Turian afterlife or whatever. Nothing will break me from you."

The sun was just ducking below the horizon and she could not stop herself. Shepard rose up on the balls of her feet and pulled herself up his torso with her arms, leaving the ground. She pressed her forehead against his and rubbed slightly as he had so many times. She then kissed him firmly, passionately, not caring that someone might see them with their tongues halfway down each other's throats.

He set her down and let her breathe.

"I love you," he said in place of "goodbye" then got in the car and left. Shepard reentered the house and no more than a minute later his parents arrived.

Avarus headed up stairs to drop off his things. Aevia approached her with a smile on her face and opened her mouth to greet her and then froze.

"So…" she said cautiously, "you and my son huh?"

Ada blushed. She had not thought about the fact that kissing him left his scent all over her. That, and Turian marking scent did not simply get out of the skin with a few showers. It stayed in the pores like a _tattoo_. She may as well have been wearing the Vakarian markings on her face.

"Yah," she admitted and caressed the talon, already missing him, "sorry."

"No, please do not apologize. I was expecting this to happen since you two were little; always the perfect match. You work better together than most Turians ever do. But I really, _really_ do not want to say it like this but… I will _kill_ you if you hurt him."

Ada looked up with fire in her eyes.

"I would already be dead," she replied.

Aevia purred contently and tried not to let the sadness ruin everything. Her son was Alfa Dexteras. Her son was dead. She remembered the night that Avarus had told her she'd wept. She focused on the present.

"That is a _strong _scent. You two have really been going at it haven't you? How was it?"

Ada opened and closed her mouth a few times blushing furiously. She was in denial that his mother was really asking about their sexual encounters.

"Oh that's right," she muttered, "humans don't really talk about… sorry. You both chose well," she thought for a moment before Avarus returned and froze. She shot him a look that said:_ It's under control_. Both were silently praying that she had did not ask about Alfa Dexteras in the slim chance that their son had mentioned it.

"Are you hungry?" Avarus asked.

"Starved," Ada replied in a clipped tone, still stroking the talon in her daze.


	19. Comedy and Tragedy

I hope you guys enjoy.

* * *

Garrus returned to Palaven for the mating ceremonies of his squad mates. The journey was just short enough so that he had an entire day to meet up with his squad mates and their families. Their reunion was joyous; their squad shared a collective bond unrivaled. Garrus had broken out his old armor which was to be replaced for Alfa Dexteras by a much more state-of-the-art model. His Verys-A Custom, which was the top of the line, would be replaced by something much more deadly.

His squad mates were mostly healed from their traumas, each made a mate to help dissipate the burden. But there were scars left. Garrus could still perfectly remember the life of the poor Ada Shepard-like young girl he had to take as a _favor_ to her. The torture of seeing all the torture cut its own kind of gash.

Krios was there with Victus, which did not surprise him. He and Garrus shook hands good-naturedly. Garrus could feel the assassin within him, but also the dedication and the quiet passion. Aliva Victus was safe with this man.

"Sere Krios," Garrus decided he would like to be impressive and speak Drell directly to him, "it is a pleasure to meet you."

His eyes widened just enough for Garrus to feel like he accomplished something before he replied.

"Of course. I have heard many good things about you."

"Have you?"

"My Siha is quite proud of her squad mates and her commander."

"That is always good to hear. She mentioned that she was also quite enamored with you. You are quite lucky, Sere Krios, for a woman like Victus."

"I am thankful every day for such a miracle."

"Garrus!" Victus called as she came into the room.

"Aliva," he leaned in and grazed his mandible against hers before handing her off to her mate, "nice guy you have yourself here."

Her neck flushed and Krios simply smiled. Perhaps there was something about this Drell that made him stand out from most of the others.

"Do you know where the others are?"

"I don't know," Victus confessed, "probably ramming each other before the big day."

Garrus thought for a moment.

"They probably are. Whatever, I don't blame them."

"Neither do I. They'll be down at some point, they aren't _that_ rude."

Krios, Victus, and Garrus talked for a while about their leaves which inevitably ended at Garrus, who had done _nothing_, but confess to Shepard. There was simply no way to dodge around the topic, no lying without giving himself away so he just went ahead and shared the news that he and Shepard were together with Victus and her mate, both of whom he could trust.

"So what did you do during your leave Garrus?" Victus questioned.

He looked down, remembering the buildup of tension and then glorious release between him and Shepard. Thinking about his life with her in it permanently. How he could be truly happy with her after the years of holding themselves back.

"Did you… was it…" she was about to say it.

"Ada Shepard chose me," he confirmed, removing his glove to show her where the talon had been sheared. Victus leapt from her seat and hugged him. Krios was wholly confused. Victus gave Garrus an affectionate nuzzle before returning to her seat and explaining to her mate about his dilemma.

"Years?" Krios asked when she was done.

"Yes," Victus answered before turning back to Garrus, "so… Garrus… was she-"

"Stop. Right. There," he cut her off mid-question, knowing exactly what it was she was about to ask him, "Alright I'll admit it was amazing, but that is all the detail you get. Your mind will need to be out of the gutter when we return to Alfa Dexteras."

"Yes sir!"

They sat around and continued to chat. When the pairs eventually came into the room, Garrus' brows raised a little in amusement when he noticed how Levisian and Castus were shuffling around. Their plates were shiny because they had clearly just stepped out of the shower, but Garrus could smell their respective mates covering them.

"Enjoy yourselves up there?" he asked, mildly amused as he, Krios, and Victus rose to greet them.

"Yes sir!" they all chorused as he grasped each of their wrists in greeting and camaraderie. They said their hellos and met Krios.

After they had been discussing for a while Victus seemed like she had something to say and everyone automatically turned their attention to her.

"So, as you guys know the Primarch is my brother, which makes me feel like a total bitch, because I have asked him if he would consider allowing Krios into our squad," Garrus stared long and hard at Victus. He was not particularly comfortable with the idea that a non-Turian, for the first time in history, was going to be Alfa Dexteras. However, he had looked over Krios' résumé, and having another infiltrator and _biotic_ of his caliber would be extremely productive. He and Castus would make the job twice as fast.

His squad mates were mimicking his stare, waiting intently for an answer from her.

"He has approved, but you need to accept the additional squad mate, Commander," Victus looked _so_ nervous and shy asking him for this.

"Well that only goes against every Turian law and tradition," Garrus leaned back, "but if you have not already noticed, I run things unorthodox. Duh. I don't mind a talented biotic and another proficient infiltrator in our squad. Food's going to be tricky, but we'll figure it out."

Kryik looked relieved that his mate was going to finally have a margin of error when they were breaking into a tight situation. Once they had fallen for one another he could not stop biting his talons in worry about his mate's safety when she went in, lightly armed, lightly armored, and completely unaccompanied.

"I agree with Commander," Kryik piped up.

After that everyone seemed in accordance with him. Victus was sinking back in her seat like a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Krios bowed his head in respect and gratitude to Garrus.

"If you can pin Reventus then you're in," he joked.

His squad looked a little shocked at his apparent chance of heart. Krios did not know, but Reventus was simply unbeatable in CQC. Size, speed, and strength mattered not.

"Just kidding," he followed up quickly, "sorry that's not funny."

"Damn right it isn't," Victus snapped.

"I don't get it," Krios murmured to her.

"I'll explain later," she whispered back.

"Thank you Vicuts, I sure feel less guilty thanks you to you," his mandibles widened in a grin.

"You and your dry-ass, blunt-ass humor. It's mostly funny, don't get me wrong," she clarified, "but you wouldn't joke about Shepard would you?"

There was a pause for a second before the two pairs of Turians swiveled their gazes from Victus to Garrus. There was pregnant pause. With triplets. They all burst out talking at once, congratulating their commander. The two females practically tackled him. Krios was sniggering but trying his hardest to hide it. Smug bastard. Once he had shrugged them off, Garrus had to summarize exactly what he told Victus to the rest of his squad.

Castus and Kryik's ceremony was quaint, not overtly ornate and showy, and concise. Garrus had a chance to meet with the Castus and Kryik families, both of which were happy for their children but unfortunately ignorant of the fact that they were Alfa Dexteras. It was an honor, of course, but it was a curse.

Garrus spoke briefly; not much needed to be said about them other than that their match was unbreakable. Castus and Kryik had parallel personalities: justified optimists, they shared their thoughts almost as they thought them, they had their own language of glances, twitches, and stares in which they could converse without making a sound. They were serious lovers, however, to offset their humor.

Kryik and Castus had used their Black Ops positions to find the nicest possible Gemstone inlays on Palaven. The small metallic and gemstone objects were placed on the soft skin of the neck just above the clavicle indent on Turians, from which they grafted to the skin and drove screw-rods into the bone directly beneath. It sounded a lot more painful than it really was, they barely felt a thing while riding the high of the bonding.

Castus had her native tattoos completely removed and replaced with the Kryik pattern. By tradition, Kryik's were removed and replaced with nicer, crisper ink; if his mate had to suffer through the pain of the process, then so would he. Castus' slightly darker plating really did the Kryik markings justice. Once the formal ceremony was over at the end of the day, there was a reception afterwards at which both families greeted one another.

Garrus was actually glad that neither family was high tier, at least not for another week and a half, because they viewed the bond as less of a political contract to grant one family a status position. Castus and Kryik retired quickly after the reception eager to "consummate" the bond with as much intensity and passionate ferocity as they could.

Next week was Levisian and Reventus' ceremony, which was larger because their clans were slightly higher in social standing than those of Castus and Kryik, for now. It ran exactly like the previous ceremony, the bonded pair performed all the same duties that Castus and Kryik had. After replacing their markings with the Reventus pattern, both opted to have their arms marked with a lengthy traditional Turian script, modified to use their names, about how much they were devoted to each other.

And that was that. They went and fucked for a few days straight before it was time to pack up and meet the Primarch in Cipritine for briefing and possible assignment. If, however, there was no assignment, they would be staying in the Primarch's residence in guest rooms until something came up. When they were not sleeping they would be getting back into shape and improving their already-superior skills. All communications between the squad and their families, even the Victus family, was cut off. Their families were notified of the tier shift. Their Turian citizenship ID's were hidden until later. They were gone.

* * *

Shepard was cleared and the paperwork was pushed to Anderson. After affirming her readmission she was brought back to Earth and set back up with a different roommate, much less of a bitch than Lawson, much more willing to start up a conversation and learn about her friend. For this Shepard was grateful.

"Ada Shepard," Shepard had greeted as she entered her new dorm room for the rest of the year.

"Ashley Williams, nice to meet you," her roommate smiled genuinely. She had been briefed quickly that Shepard had lost her family to aliens. Ash could relate, she had lost hers to Turians. She was glad for the company and hoped that her roommate would not be a complete wreck; although she could relate. She had been told about the kind of person Shepard was, and they compatible personalities.

She also had at least some shreds of restraint because Williams, unlike Lawson, was dignified. She was not a slut, at least not publicly. She was the kind of person whose pleasure came from commitment, from having something to take for granted. Williams was the kind of woman who would try to get into a stable relationship _before_ getting fucked.

They got along much better and it only helped Shepard stand up more than she already was. Her pre-loss self was back in full with the promise of Garrus in her future as her basis. She was confident that he would pull through whatever Black Ops, or Alfa Dexteras or whatever the hell it was he called it, had to throw at him.

Garrus must have tempered the talon charm with something because it never wore, never scratched, and never chipped. Shepard wore the talon everywhere all the time no matter what; during the day, when she went to sleep, when she worked out and when she showered off. The moment she took off the talon would be the moment she would let her lifeline go. The gentle pinpoint weight just above her heart reminded her of his touch. She could practically feel it vibrating with his energy, his heartbeat, his love. But with the way she treated it like it was her lifeline, Williams was bound to notice her strange behavior.

Williams had expected Shepard to be a train wreck, but she was just the opposite. Her roommate was a strong-willed independent and confident woman. Shepard was also drop-dead gorgeous without even trying. For these reasons she was hit on like no other, but Shepard never _ever_ took up anyone on the offer of date. She flirted like crazy, but it was never more than silly banter. She wondered how the hell Shepard pulled it off; because some of the guys there were _reall_y hot _and_ had great personalities. It was like a one-two gut punch, but Shepard was never fazed.

Shepard was a powerhouse. She had apparently failed a term and then taken two months' recovery from clinical depression and a fucking coma, but now she was breaking the system with her performance in classes and training. She had never heard of recovery happening so quickly. When she received the news that her family had been killed in the war at age four, she never quite recovered. She began to understand her own trauma by the time it cut too deep. And to the day she could not stomach Turians or anything about them.

Shepard made up almost an entire semester's worth of work in two months somehow.

Williams began to notice a trend with her roommate. She would show up at the room, usually pretty late, work until she looked too tired to continue, shower off and get ready for bead. Then she would do the creepiest fucking thing… Shepard wore that charm around her neck and _never_ took it off. She would run her fingers over it a few times without paying attention to the fact that Williams could see her just fine. She would go into a daze and stare blankly before touching the charm to her forehead and then dropping off almost immediately.

She felt obligated to ask about it. Not to mention it made her look like a total badass and Williams wanted to know where she could find one for herself if she wanted.

"Hey Shep?"

"Ash," she was immediately on the defensive, knowing that Williams was about to ask her something which would have a difficult answer.

"What is that you wear around your neck? Just curious…"

"It's a… gift… from my mm- boyfriend."

Shepard, _boyfriend_. Those two words were never used in the same sentence. If she was in a relationship than her boyfriend must have been the most amazing man ever. She was impossible to impress, so clearly if someone wanted to win her heart they would have to be inhumanly perfect at everything.

Suddenly Williams really wanted to know about her boyfriend.

"A boyfriend Shep? Who is he?"

Shepard leveled her gaze at Williams. She got the distinct impression that her roommate was calculating an answer that revealed as little as possible about him. Shepard sighed.

"He's perfect. Like in every way he's perfect. All of the guys here… they're cute an all but, they don't measure up. It would be like trying to compare a candle and a star."

"Does he even exist?" Williams joked but Shepard pinned her down with a glare.

"Okay, okay," Williams backed off, "It's just… well he must be pretty damn amazing in order to keep you off some of the guys here."

"Candle… star," Shepard replied raising an eyebrow.

"I had no idea that someone like that could even exist. You're one lucky girl, Shep."

"I know. That's why I'm not going to blow it."

"Do I ever get to meet him?"

"No," Shepard had no hint of mirth in her voice; she was totally serious. Williams frowned.

"Why not?"

"I'm sure if I told you, we would no longer be friends."

"Um… okay?"

"Goodnight," Shepard rolled over and fell asleep.

Williams lay back and wondered what her friend was not telling her about this guy. She contemplated how reserved Shepard was about the whole thing. If this dream guy was with her, Williams would be bragging nonstop.

* * *

Shepard stayed into the summer to continue making up her lost time and completed both terms of her freshman year with the highest marks of her entire class. Shepard was back on track.

She had a few weeks of free time in which she found a martial arts master willing to mentor her. John Oshiro. They day they met he had seemed shocked and distressed at the same time. Despite the awkward introduction he worked with her.

After months of training, Shepard built back her physical strength back up and found catharsis in the training and occasional friendly sparring match. Oshiro transformed into a father figure who always had something wise to say that would help her perform better during the week. Her mentor really freaked her out when he pointed to the talon after they were through with a sparring session and commented.

"I can tell, all the energy is coming from that point. For a person of your age, it is unnatural to have as much energy as you do. What exactly is that?"

Shepard was not going to tell him that it was a talon from her Turian boyfriend. She would never tell anyone about that, especially not here on Earth where it would be an unneeded stigma. There were enough rumors about her and her damn necklace, no doubt Williams had accidentally let it slip in conversation that she was in relationship and it was going around like wildfire.

"Just a… good luck charm from my parents when I was young," she lied to his face. But hey, better safe than sorry.

Her master raised his eyebrow in disbelief because he clearly knew something that she did not.

"You failed the test. I know exactly what that is."

The elder parted his gee slightly and revealed a nearly identical object; Shepard had never really noticed the black band around his neck until he called attention. Shepard stared lamely at the slightly more slender copy of the one she wore. He pulled slightly more and revealed an intricate tattoo that covered his right shoulder.

When Shepard failed to respond he launched into his memories as he walked her off the mat and sat her down with some tea.

"I have never told anyone this before," he prefixed and then began.

* * *

John "Kai" Oshiro had conflicting thoughts about what he was witnessing. He watched through his sniper scope as a group of well-equipped PMC mercenaries shredded a frail squadron of Turians without mercy or dignity. The Conflict had barely broken out and already Humanities PMC's had their noses in the Alliance's business as well as their personal interests.

He had been stationed as recon, gathering intel on an abandoned Turian base which was rumored to contain traces of useful information concerning the Turian fleet and its logistics. So far there had been no activity there save a small squad of Turians who would circle the area and then go back inside.

Apparently, more than just the Alliance was hunting for that information, which would likely be possessed and held for high ransom. These PMC's: Terra Nova, Cerberus, Hades, Heart of Earth, were no more than terrorist groups with terrorist intentions.

As an Asian-American, John new what it felt like to be on the receiving end of prejudice and racism. Naturally he felt sympathy for the Turians, who were simply on the same end he was. Humanity was quick to judge and quick to act without thinking too much about it. Of course, that did not stop the Turians from having not rationality regarding the subject. Shooting at a race of beings that has never encountered intelligent life outside theirs would naturally garner a poor reaction.

Still, he had opted for the role of reconnaissance because he wanted to stay as far away from the actual killing as possible. Watching his comrades go down under Turian fire was difficult, but watching Turians go down was no easier. He avoided killing anyone; he only ever fired his weapon in self-defense if or he was protecting his own men, but even those were non-lethal.

Of course, he had killed Turians caught in the act of atrocities, like torture and rape. But he had killed Humans committing the same crimes. Species mattered not.

He focused and adjusted the zoom on his scope a little. The soldiers were Terra Nova, the most public and most extreme to the day. They were all sick in the head and took the word "retaliation" to a whole new fucking level. The Turians had committed atrocities, but they were certainly offset by the sheer number and intensity that Terra Nova and some of its Alliance tie-ins supported. He had absolutely no issues gunning them down, even if they were Human.

But so far he waited. They had left one of the Turians alive for some reason, likely to interrogate. It was slightly smaller than the previous ones and was currently being held still by two humans and a biotic. The only one left was a larger looking male who was clearly the one in charge.

Oshiro's gut twisted when he saw the larger male pull his pistol and fire a shot into the smaller Turian's leg. Its head threw back in pain but he was too far to hear the roar before the wind swept the sound away.

Oshiro had seen interrogations. They almost never went by without some form of violence, unless of course it was Shepard's crew. They managed to get both sides what they wanted and walk away with minimal casualties.

Shepard's wife had been working since the first shots of the Conflict with a Turian family of high standing on the language barrier and forming a tentative alliance behind the scenes of the war, which was run by corrupted generals on both ends who had too much pride to walk away from the fight without a decisive victor.

Shepard and his wife and their Turian family friends were both working their hardest to get both species to pull their heads out from their asses and actually _think_ before shooting each other to bits. This was the opposite; and knowing Terra Nova, the Turian would be worse than killed. He readied his finger on the trigger. If they did anything more than speak and leave, he would fire off a warning shot.

They removed its helmet and he saw that the Turian in question was female, young. His veins iced over. She looked terrified and agonized; it was likely her first assignment to go out with a squad on harmless patrol around the base. He put himself in her boots and his heart clenched, unable to imagine the kind of emotions that were running through her. And these men were not Alliance, they were there to overtly torture her for their pleasure before information. Alliance soldiers were told to incapacitate; the more casualties avoided during the war the easier it would be to negotiate peace with the Turians.

These PMC's were the reason why the Conflict had gone on for so damn long.

His finger was itching to pull the trigger and scare the mercenaries away so they would stop what they were doing and just move on with their assignment.

The larger merc moved in the way of his view of the shaking Turian female. He entered her personal space and spoke into the side of her head. Ironically, the first translators had been perfected just days before, and they were already being abused. Her eyes widened and was she… crying? A single streak of blue emerged from a tear duct and left a gash-like marking as it slipped down her cheek plate.

The ring leader sneered and then ripped her codpiece out of her armor, breaking the seals off. Oshiro held his breath. They crossed the line when the leader pulled a combat knife and slit the exposed under armor in two. Her mouth opened again and her eyes squeezed shut. The knife not only slit just the undersuit, but the tender skin beneath as well. Now he needed no further evidence that they were going to rape her. Those were not Humans down there, those were monsters. No one, neither Human nor alien, deserved that.

He fired five shots in rapid succession, so quickly it sounded like one blast. Their heads bolted up and their eyes seemed to lock through the scope. One of them convulsed in surprise and fired of three rounds into her side. Five projectiles raced downrange and all five met their mark before they had time to react; five heads popped like balloons. The Turian girl sank to her knees and her head slumped over to the side, bleeding out of the holes in the side of her armor and the slit in crotch of the undersuit.

Oshiro packed up his gear and sprinted down the kilometer to where she lay bleeding out, no access to medigel. He would be damned if this poor thing had to die in such a horrible, humiliating way.

At the young age of twenty five he was in peak condition, he made it down in three minutes, exhausted from carrying the heavy gear. Her vitals snapped to his visor, which started screaming at him primarily because it had trouble making sense of the four-stroke Turian heartbeat.

He knelt down by her side and snapped the clasps on her torso armor so he could access the wounds in her side. He started talking to her, soothing her, he knew not why. After all, they were enemies and it was likely that she would have killed him given the chance. Oshiro slathered medigel onto the wounds in her side and they began to seal quickly. Before they could fully close, he slipped a pair of medical tweezers into the wounds and dug out the projectiles. She groaned; thank whatever gods and ancestors who were looking down on him. He did the same for the bullet would in her leg.

He cringed when he reached the final problem. She was still bleeding profusely and medigel had to be administered there. Oshiro did not know if she could hear him.

"I'm so sorry," he apologized in advance, and then slipped his medigel coated fingers into her undersuit and coated the soft slit guarding her channel, which twitched slightly under the contact. He was disgusted with himself; he felt like he was violating the poor creature even more. To his relief, the blood stopped flowing.

His mission became unimportant in that moment. Information be damned; it could wait. And the longer the corruption in the Human military had to wait to battle with the corruption in the Turian military the better.

He picked the unconscious Turian up into his arms and headed into the base, hoping that his observations were correct in that they were the only ones here. The innards of the place were dark and cold, quiet and deserted. Oshiro eventually found a room with the light still on in which there where two beds and some basic belongings. He set her down on the bed so that her head was supported and went out to look for rations.

After breaking into their stores he had drinking water and some dextro protein bars for her when she awoke. He wondered what the hell he was thinking going to such a length to save this girl. Something about witnessing this firsthand had snapped something inside of him. Seeing his own kind act like they did but the species barrier into perspective. "Turians are ruthless and emotionless" was all Humanity talked about because the ruthlessness and emotionlessness of the Humans was just as bad. They were barely any different.

That was when he realized that he found her beautiful, and that he was doomed to continue to find her that way no matter how hard he tried to convince himself that she was a hideous enemy alien.

She was scared stiff when she awoke. The pistol was pointed at him instantly and she growled in warning.

"Give me a good reason why I should not kill you right now, Human piece of varren shit!" her voice resonated harmoniously.

Oshiro looked at her calmly from the bed on the other side of the room. He knew she would not shoot him. No matter how hard pulled on the trigger, she would be unable to discharge the device. Years of martial arts had taught him to feel the flow of energy from one being to another, and hers was directed everywhere but his.

He rose with the gun still trained on him, crossed to the shelf, and deliberately turned his back to her to pour her a cup of water. She had gone for a day with nothing to eat or drink and her body needed the hydration and nutrients. He turned back around, still very much alive, with water and a dextro ration bar. He moved over with the precision and grace of a martial arts master and sat down _next_ to her. She stood up quickly and got off the bed, still growling, still pointing the gun at him.

Oshiro quickly set down things he was holding and rushed to her side as her wounded leg gave out. He caught her weight and her gun clattered to the floor. She was deceptively light and felt wonderful in his arms. He guided her back to the bed before she could strike him and picked up the glass of water, which he offered to her.

She glanced cautiously at him, then at the glass of water, before huffing and lying back.

"What do you want with me? Why are you saving me? Huh? So you can have me for yourself?"

Oshiro fixed her with a pained stare, was possibly just as angry as she was.

"The _abominations_, the fucking monsters who tried to… tried to rape you. I can't even… Listen, you may not understand for now, but the worthless excuses for Humans who tried to have their way with you are the worst of the worst. They _deserved_ to have their brains splattered all over the ground for what they were attempting to do to you. If there's one thing I learned, it's that the galaxy isn't black and white; it's an enormous gray zone. I've seen shit… I don't make distinctions between race anymore; now it's about removing anyone who hinders the healing process of the initial Conflict."

"Impossible, I don't believe any of that bullshit. You'll just fuck me later and throw out my corpse like _they_ were planning," she spat.

"Are you going to drink the water or not?" he ignored her ignorance to accept the truth and defused the tension quickly. She glared at him and accepted the cup, tossing its contents into the back of her throat in one gulp. She softened considerably, as if in deep contemplation.

"How can you be different?" she was genuinely curious, her tone completely transformed, "How can I trust you knowing you might…" she buried her face into her hands.

He picked up the pistol, loaded a fresh mag into the chamber and placed it under her pillow.

"Here, shoot me if try anything like what they wanted. I would rather die before subjecting any being to that kind of treatment. I don't expect you to understand right away, and I don't mean to sound condescending. There are Humans who want to see this conflict end, and there are those that want to perpetuate the fighting. The Turians have the same problem."

He pinned down her next statement with a stare.

"I saved you with no ulterior motive. If it had been a group of Turian males abusing a human woman; I would have done the same. If it had been a group of Turian males abusing a Turian woman; I would have done the same. It's morality on the line, not race."

"I don't… how are you…"

Oshiro held up the protein bar which she took from him thankfully, "you are reluctant to believe it so easily. It took me years to break through the barrier."

She simply nodded and ate.

"My squad, are they…"

"Dead. I set up when I heard gunshots, but by then it was too late. There was not much I could do, I'm sorry."

"What are you doing here?"

"Recon, I suppose since I'm not going to hide anything from you and my mission is fucked anyway, I was sent to confirm or deny rumors that this base held useful information about Turian fleet logistics."

"It was a ruse," she admitted and ducked her head, "I suppose we were the fodder," then she chuckled softly, "I guess it worked. By the way I'm private Verata Quintus. Twenty-one yesterday. This was supposed to be my first assignment… just a simple patrol…"

Oshiro noticed the blood streak still on her face. He dampened a cloth and held it up to her face. She recoiled at first but then leaned back in, gaze locked with his, as he applied the damp cloth to clear the streak as well as some of the other grime.

_Now_ her energy was directed directly at his. And, rather awkwardly, the _on_ switch had been flipped on by the intense emotions of their survival situation and what they had both experienced to end up where they were. The gesture was surprisingly intimate and they both felt it.

"Operator John Kai Oshiro, twenty-five as of a few months ago" he returned softly.

"Why do I trust you," she murmured, "I shouldn't but I can't help it… I can't really be this easy… I have to fight you… you're the enemy…but you're just so… how are you so…" she was frustrated with her own conflicts.

"This is likely the first time you've ever been judged solely based on your character. It's a shock, a relief amongst a populace that will never stop judging you for everything but. To you, I'm simply a sentient being. To me, you are no different. Does the race matter?"

"No," she spoke slowly, "I suppose it doesn't."

By the end of the two weeks it took for her to fully heal they were utterly and completely infatuated with one another, bound, mated. He had never thought a Turian, angular and armored, could be so amazingly beautiful. His mind had been screaming: _too fast! slow down!_ There should be no relationship that formed like theirs and convinced both sides that they were love bound.

Truth is mostly stranger than fiction.

* * *

"At the end of that period we… I'll spare you the gruesome details young one, even though you definitely handled them."

"What happened next," Shepard was eager to find out the conclusion of his story. Was it a comedy, or a tragedy?

* * *

Quintus never once complained about his size and his lacking Human stamina, she had overlooked their differences by that point. Oshiro had certainly never had the opportunity to be so… _liberal_ with a woman. They were both happy that they could give the other enough pleasure to make the rather tentative ordeal worth it in the end.

Oshiro had only ever been with a woman once before. She had left him for someone far shallower than he. His mistake had been his blindness to her mercurial tendency, a trait which they did not share in the slightest. His heart had been broken the first time, but it had been easy to move on. She did not really _take_ any part of him with her when she left.

But Quintus bound to a part of him he never knew existed. Fuck what people said about the Humans' inability to bind with a Turian; as far as he was concerned that was false. On the last day they shared together, wrapped around one another and lost in each other, she had left him with a promise: she used her combat knife to sever her talon and then an overloaded thermal clip to temper it so that it was nearly impervious to all forms of wear and damage. They found some durable material to hold the talon. She fastened it around his neck and melted the seam shut with the same overloaded clip.

"If someone told me that I'd fall for a Human, and that it would take two weeks, I would have slapped them in the fringe," she whispered into his chest.

"Same here," he replied.

There was a long silence before they heard the rumble of Turian dropship engines through the ground.

"I love you, Verata," Oshiro pulled her forehead up to his, the once careful and tentative gesture now rehearsed and complete. Quintus turned it into a Human-style kiss on her own, having admitted that she found it incredibly intimate.

"I love you, John," she purred, "When this whole fucking war is over, I'll be waiting for you, love. I'll find you somehow,"

"And I will look for you; we'll find somewhere to settle down, live our lives, maybe a family… don't believe what they might tell you about Humans; I'm not all Humans. I will _never_ let you go," it was the first time he felt his own tears on his face for years.

"I will wait," she said goodbye, spraying herself down with an antiseptic, then donning her armor and leaving. A few days later John was picked up by his own evac. When asked to debrief he said he had found no traces of information, that it was a ruse to distract.

The First Contact Conflict ended a few months later.

* * *

"So when the war was officially brought to an end by… your parents, I went to the citadel where we had agreed to meet each other. I got her clan markings tattooed on my shoulder as a surprise for her. I never imagined… That when I found her… that when I found her she would be lying in a pool of her own blood in an apartment. She'd been," he closed his eyes and sucked in a breath, "violently raped by Terra Nova terrorists, what a fucking coincidence," her mentor's fists were clenched tightly. It was the first time she had ever heard him swear. Shepard was scared for the first time in a long time.

"It took away a part of me: the part that had never existed before I met her. I was suicidal for a few months. But I figured I would do better hunting Terra Nova and everyone involved like a murderer for years. They vanished from the grid because I made them pay for what they did. Since then, I returned to Earth to settle down with my memories of her. The talon never leaves me for any reason; it feels like she's touching me there on the shoulder. There hasn't been anyone else because, well, it's like holding a candle to a star."

He looked up at his student, who appeared shocked.

"Sorry. You're probably scared to death of me now."

"It's endearing," Shepard finally blurted, "if anything, to know that there is someone else who I can relate two. I made the same analogy about my relationship with _him_."

After a few moments the atmosphere of the space completely changed.

"So are you ready to advance onto the next set of moves?"

"I was born ready,"

"What have I told about terrible cliché 'one-liners,'" he scolded.

"Sorry, _dad_," she could finally say without letting the memory of her parents choke her to death.

* * *

Someone write me a one-shot or two-shot or anyNumber-shot about Oshiro and Quintus. First Contact War AU!s are sexy. JK, but feel free to take me up on it. Also feel free to modify the timeframes as long as the general story is till there.


	20. Deteriorations

Alright here's an entire chapter about Val because the last one was entirely about Ada.

* * *

For the next few months Val Shepard said nothing about the slowly spreading cancerous light. She had no idea what it was and the Sevist had said nothing about it so far. She would have to tell him the next time they visited for a checkup because it was starting to be a concern to her.

She could look back, _way_ back to one of the nights when she had first arrived, and remembered that dream in which she had seen herself, unclothed, and covered in glowing markings. Maybe that was her superconscious telling her about her changes before anyone knew. Maybe it was something else. But those dreams were definitely on the verge of becoming a reality at this rate; she just needed some evidence and expert opinion from Senatas Coros.

She scheduled an appointment herself because Oracle was not around and she could no longer stand to go on feeling like something was going to horribly wrong with her. Val contacted Coros who found a time slot in which he had a few spare moments to meet with her. Axess Tare'an flew her over to the medical building in the center of Vir'atras to her meeting

"Salutations, Senatas Sevist Coros," she greeted as she walked in to his medical room.

"Ah, _Val_," he had grown accustomed to using her English name, "you said you were concerned, I presume it is about… the luminescence."

"How long have you known?" she asked, realizing that he knew more than she.

"Turn around and remove your outer layer, I would like to show you something," he ordered.

She did as she was told, snapping the clasps on her shirt. Sevist provided her with a hologram image of her back from his perspective. He reached over to a tray of tools and picked up what looked like an old-fashioned ball-point pen. He touched the device to her back, just near her neck, and she felt a tingling sensation. She could not see anything happening, but when he slightly dimmed the lights she could see the very miniscule subdermal strip glowing and pulsating softly. Her mouth dropped open.

"_What the hell_…"

"Excuse me? What was that?" he asked, thinking that she had spoken too quietly for him to hear.

"I apologize, Just surprised. What is that?"

"Your body is producing luciferase; 460 nm emission."

"What was that word? Sorry my vocabulary of medical words is lacking."

"Do you know the word: bioluminescence?"

She gasped, a sign that this was surprised if her subvocals and superconscious did not make it obvious enough.

"I- yes, so that big word you used is a form of bioluminescence? And from what I understand it is… electric blue?"

"Exactly. We detected a buildup of it here," he moved the pointer to the very tip of the streak, "however, it was far too small to be of concern and unconnected to your nervous system. We did not know what to make of it; it would either augment or it would dissipate. But now, you say you have seen it?"

"I actually was unaware of that one, Senatas, it is my iris that I am worried about."

"Your… iris… what- Right, sorry," the lower and non-sapient animals had irises; he was not used to hearing them in reference to beings such as Val. Val cringed because she understood his confusion. Sevist pulled up a scanner and asked his patient to stare into the lens for a moment. Once the scanner had obtained its results, he could confirm that luciferase was indeed building up at the edges of her… iris… and that it was indeed the same make up as the chemical in her back. The protein was fused onto her unique hybrid-strand DNA; this was her genuine color, her true color. The Sicarian she had been born as was coming forth even more.

"When did you first notice this development?"

"A few months ago," she shied under his intense gaze. He was radiating concern through his superconscious and annoyance that he had not told her sooner.

"Sorry! Please forgive. I did not want anyone to think I was insane. I certainly thought so."

"How did you…" me muttered concerned about something completely different now. He held the scanner up to her chest and then moved it to her back.

"I have some more information for you after this: the pocket of bioluminescence on your back and in your iris has developed a link to your nervous system, which means that it can be triggered and light up. Right now I assume it is completely involuntary. Is there anything in particular that prompts them to become visible?"

"Yes… but I do not know if… I am too embarrassed to talk about it," she confessed.

"Would you like to me to fetch my mate so you two can speak?" he questioned helpfully.

"No… that would not make it any less embarrassing," she was looking away from him. Coros had come to learn that it was a sign of nervousness or embarrassment, instead of disrespect. He had a feeling he knew what it was, but he did not want to push her or make any false assumptions.

"Alright and the other thing that I want to tell you is that your superconscious is becoming alarmingly strong. For Sicarians. I would go as far as to say that right now, it is like that of Councilor Kastan Oravos, who is the next in line for the Oracle position should the current one die."

Val stared blankly for a moment.

"This is ridiculous," Coros muttered, "this is so much further-developed than we could have anticipated. _Val_, I'm afraid that if it does not decelerate in its development, then we will have to administer a medicine to stop it. Otherwise it would become like a cancer and ruin your body. It is good that you are meeting with me now so I can watch this carefully. If you can find time, I would like you to meet with me once a week until I detect a trend."

"Alright. Will the bioluminescence spread?"

"In my expert opinion I predict that it will. If your body is accommodating it in one location then there is no reason why it would not in others. But in your irises, I cannot say how much will appear there. I can tell you right now that the biology of your eye will barely change from its current state, but the pigmentations may spread to cover the whole iris, possibly the pupil. I apologize if this is a little nerve-wracking for you. My mate is better at talking about these kinds of things without being so blunt."

"Thank you for your time Senatas Coros. I will meet you," she found a time slot in his scheduling and placed down her name, "then."

"Wonderful. The Lights guide you," he said goodbye.

"And you," she returned. Tare'an flew her back to the Nostrom residence and she took the next few hours to think and write about it in her ever-expanding journal. She was quite alright with the changes really; she would prefer to just _be_ a Sicarian because that would make her life so much simpler. When she could she read about Sicarians and their psychology. She also read their novels, both nonfiction and fiction, and found that in every instance of a relationship the two Sicarians in question were no in love in one instant, and literally the very next sentence they would be utterly and passionately in love with one another. Even the most horribly-paced human romance novels did not portray relationships like that.

Val looked into it some more and found some quite interesting biological components of Sicarians that turned her on. They had evolved to biologically communicate using their superconscious to find a potential match that was not taken. If two Sicarians wanted the same female, they would have a superconscious battle. The one with more points of resonance with the mate would form a stronger bond and win. The loser would eventually latch onto another. This process happened so quickly, that it was unable to be noticed.

And then after that the bonded pair had all kinds of biological incentives to stay together until death.

So love triangles were nonexistent. Mostly. Dramatic literature about that kind of thing did not exist. There were cases of these extremely rare third-wheel Sicarians, and those that wanted to bind with their potential mate but had some kind of malfunction in their superconscious which made it impossible to form the bond. Those that had this issue and never had the opportunity to express their repressed feelings actually died after a few years. There was a name for their condition as well: repressive overload syndrome.

Sicarians were so successful as a race because of this; when they bonded they stayed harmonious for the rest of their lives. The term "argument" and "mated couple" were never used in the same sentence. Stable relationships begat a stable and superior family with superior children who could go on and better the race as a whole. And sexual intercourse to them was the ultimate promise of love, unlike other races which had the option to see it as casual. It would be tricky for them to adapt when they arrived on the Citadel and women from literally every race came onto them.

Symptoms included weakening of the heart cords as an early sign of deterioration. Oracle! But that was impossible, he said that the Oracles never bonded which meant that there was something different malformed about their superconscious that prevented them from taking mates. Otherwise they would all have died this way. Val had looked up the previous oracle; he had lived for two-hundred and ten years. Repressive Overload started between the ages of sixteen and twenty and then killed in three to six years.

She could not bear the thought of Oracle having to go through something like that and sure he was not. But oh how it made her burn with jealously at the thought that he may be enamored with someone that was not her and then die, because that other woman either did not want him back, or was incapable. Val know absolutely nothing about the mechanics of Sicarians when it came to sex, but it was unimportant next to the thought of him as intimate with someone besides her.

She held her hand up to her face and saw that the glowing flecks at the edges of her iris were projecting light onto her hand.

* * *

The third year was difficult for Oracle. Just like the first year, work started to pile quickly and he was quickly lost from her. The flagship, a little annoyingly called the _Honoress_ had been roughed and needed all kinds of approval for finalization projects, weapons and shields research, and recruitment. Val had seen a picture of the craft and it was fucking huge. There was the Destiny Ascension, which she had seen up close from their occasional trips to the Citadel, and then there was _Honoress_.

And they claimed it was clear for atmospheric travel! A dreadnaught in atmosphere! Fuck that!

The two older students in her class, Vesa Nova'an and Telicos Varist, could no longer attend due to military service requirements. Val was saddened to see them go, but knew that nothing would really happen to them in the military. They would serve and train for a war that would never happen, they would find love and mate and be gone. If she was lucky they would remember to talk with her occasionally.

She had done what Coros asked of her and visited every week or so. He was able to confirm that her superconscious was finished developing and that it would not be a problem. He addressed her bioluminescence with uncertainty still because he needed more time to map out the changes and nail down a more accurate prediction.

Oracle's condition had degenerated slightly. There was no way that he had just a trivial sickness, because this had lasted for two years now, beginning the day of her speech at the monument. She highly doubted that what he had was as trivial as everyone told her it was. And what was worse it that she could feel an imminence; it started a year prior, giving her a three year warning. Now it was down to two years and it throbbed in the back of her skull like headache.

She went ahead with the assumption that whatever was going to happen at the end of that period of time was going to be extremely bad for everyone.

Val had tried to talk to him about his deteriorations but he had told her the same _lie_. She could tell he was lying, but she could also tell that he was _scared_ of her and anxious for this… time limit to just approach and get over with.

The nightmares about him got worse; because now he outright told her that he loved her back with all of his strength before dropping off to death. And no matter what she did to try and save him she always lost him. She continued to wake up in tears and he continued to never be there for her because of his obligations.

She began to hate herself slowly for the inability to simply tell him about her own feelings for him and just live with the embarrassment when he rejected her. He would pull it off cleanly as well, he would let her down so softly it would be like she never hit the ground, and they would stay friends. She would learn to deal with the fact that she could never have him and that a bond between them was impossible. It was not proper of her to rob the Oracle of a lineage, but she supposed that he was not really supposed to have one as the Oracle.

She continued to take advantage of the freedoms that came with being a Sicarian citizen and went out more often with Tare'an in tow. Val was increasingly well known around Vir'Atras because of her frequent appearances outside. Eventually Tare'an stopped bringing his rifle and just went with a lighter sidearm. His training with Val had turned her into a capable attacker and defender despite her various differences. Her power to weight ratio by that point was so great that she was far lighter on her feet than most Sicarians her size. Her altering bone type was making her increasingly lighter.

Tare'an knew she could defend herself. She was strong and quick-thinking when they sparred. Granted he still went easy on her, but not as easy as when they started. She was certainly more proficient now than most Sicarians ever got in hand to hand. The lack of scapulals and radials made her trickier to grab and pin. And she was flexible in ways that Sicarians just were not. She could get out of pins that he thought were completely sound by flexing her spine, hips, and legs around in ways that made him cringe.

Of course she had been surprised to find out that Sicarins had their own range of flexibility that put hers to shame. Instead of fixed hips, they mimicked the shoulders, a pelvic clavicle and scapula meant their legs had all the same range of motion as their shoulders. The pelvis itself was made up of "ribs" for pliability, allowing Sicarians to drop from massive heights and cushion most of the blow. Tradeoffs, tradeoffs.

He eventually taught her how to hold and fire a Sicarian rail driver because she was strong enough by that point to hold one without letting her arms wobble. The lack of bone clutches mate it trickier for her to hold still after long periods of time, but she could still hold the large device without too much of a problem. Her marksmanship was lacking when he began, but she was a quick learner. She could cluster shots with a 0.1% accuracy error on a half-meter target at five kilometers. Not an Overwatch Agent, but decent enough to earn his respect.

Luckily, all of her training was never put to use.

Val became more and more beautiful by the week. Tare'an was lucky, however, that she was already taken because otherwise he would have contracted Repressive Overload long ago. While Oracle was the wisest being on their planet, he was certainly too thick to get over himself and tell Val. Oracle had Repression, it was clear to see, and they kept trying to pass it off as something else for Val's sake. The charade could only go no so much longer before Val herself found out. At which point, Val would hopefully find it within herself to confess back.

If not, then he would tell it to her face, because Oracle was getting worse and he did not want to see his friend have to suffer death by Repressive Overload.

The year continued. Val spent her nineteenth birthday out with Oracle in Vir'atras on one of the three days he had been granted off. Val's heart could not handle the sight of him anymore. He was so internally rotted and depressed. He tried his best to hide it for her; he wanted her to stop worrying about him and his problems. She knew that he wanted her to simply live without the burdens that he was placing on her.

But in all honesty, she would rather bear his burdens with him just to find out what the problem was. She was afraid that she would lose Vael'en, the one that made her laugh back when they were learning each other for the first time; the one that had performed miracles for her; the one that despite his own exhaustion, stayed with her every night and reminded her of what was and was not reality.

Oracle gave her a necklace which had he had _handmade_ in his free time over the past entire year. If that was not romantic that she did not know what was. The chain was made from braided metal links with a sapphire pendant as the main object of interest.

"You… made this?" she asked disbelieving.

"_In my free time yes… is there something wrong with it?_"

"No, no not at all. _But I mean like, handmade? As in you formed these links without the aid of a synthesizer_?"

"Right," he seemed unimpressed with himself.

"_When did you learn how to do that_?"

"_Hm? Oh, when I was younger my mother taught me metalworking as part of my schooling_."

Val trilled: _Why_?

"_If we need to repair a weapon or armor sometimes we have to make replacements without machining them. A good skill in my opinion_," he informed her.

"Quite. It is beautiful," she spoke quietly and fastened it around her neck. She it was just her imagination that heard his voice echo: _like you, love_.

Oracle clamped down on his superconscious before he spilled anymore.

He had taken her to see one of his favorite bands in concert the following day. Val confessed that she did not know what to expect and that she had never heard Sicarian music. She imagined that it would be like they were; quiet, serious, formal, but it was the opposite. It was more akin to what she had experience with back… on Concordia. The rhythms were heavy and the melodies were fierce. The band members were dressed a little more conservatively, sleeveless uniforms counted as "conservative."

So _this_ was how Sicarians, so up-tight and mechanical found some release. It was really, _really_ strange to lay her eyes upon a sea of younger Sicarians jumping and moving in time to the rhythms of the music. The singer was amazing. He could duplicate the sound of his voice and sing a five-part harmony by himself. There were drum-looking things, keyboard, and stringed instruments that reminded her of guitars. What a coincidence.

She found the music quite enjoyable. Oracle was moving as well, swaying with the music, and it took her a few moments to remember that he was only twenty.

* * *

A medical breakthrough at the end of the year allowed for Oracle to undergo a surgery that postponed his pain and his death for another year and a half. He needed the time to see off the flagship fleet, which was due for completion in another two years. He wanted to watch his people make first contact with their allies, thanks to Honoress, and _then_ he could die painfully knowing that at least he accomplished one thing.

Val seemed happy, so he was happy for her. It was endearing to know that should anything happen to himself, she would have the heart of the public in her hand for him. It was comfort that only the very first Oracle actually possessed.

That year the first direct translator between Sicarian and English was completed. Val and Oracle could speak their native tongues and the device would project the proper sounds using their voices. It was completely different than the emulator that Val had written in her first few months because this one was an actual converter. Val had spoken Sicarian and used the emulator to produce subvocals, but this new piece of technology eliminated the requirement that the user speak Sicarian vocals first.

This meant that the translator could interface with the one from her omni-tool and emulate all council, and some non-council languages. Val still preferred to go forth without a translator. Oracle preferred the same.

Preparations were well underway for the completion of the _Honoress_ and the rest of the fleet ships.

The sub dermal markings and the rings in her irises had spread and Val had gone in to see Senatas Coros many more times by the end of the year. He had taken a look at the rate at which her markings were spreading and came to the conclusion that within the next two and a half years she would have an almost completely developed set which she would be able to control to the same precision as Sicarians could. They would surround her upper chest, leaving her abdomen mostly bare, surround her waist and upper legs, and travel down her arms. So far, the markings had begun to circumvent her upper chest, and scans could pick up small buildups forming around her shoulders, clavicles, and breasts.

The spots in her irises would develop, but only into a ring. Coros concluded with certainty that her changes were completely benign. Her other senses would improve as well; sharper eyesight and the ability to focus on more than one thing in her field of view at once, smell and hear better.

Val was excited in a way that she would have a set of her own markings, something completely unique to her. And perhaps for the first time, Val could care less about her humanity. She was conditioned to think and operate like a Sicarian, but she was trapped in the shell of her former self. Anything that could make her one of them she would eagerly take on.

* * *

The fourth year was worse than the third. The Overload syndrome began to take its toll on his system and the frequency of the trips to so Coros increased dramatically. Oracle continued to receive the medicine that would postpone his death for another year by forcing his body to heal before his mind could. It was shoddy at best, but at this point he could not care any less about his worsening conditions.

Honoress was out of the house more and more it seemed, as if trying to escape the kind of aura of death he projected. Tare'an was always too friendly with her and he felt that perhaps they were developing something. Not that it would matter to him; If Val found his Chief of Guard suitable to bond with then he would do nothing to stop them. As far as he was concerned, if she was happy then he was happy, and Tare'an was worthy of her.

On three occasions, all of which had been kept quiet from the public and most importantly, Val, he had been found unconscious at his desk at work, dribbling blood out of his rear breathing tubes. Coros was growing concerned and tried to convince him to tell her; at least ease some of the weight that he was placing over himself. But he refused to subject Honoress to that kind of revelation. She was uninterested and it would only be a waste of time; an unnecessary burned on both of them.

Oracle could still remember the prophecy from years before; so far he had been unable to rectify the flow of time to cause those events to occur.

Something grabbed hold of him. He looked at images that his Agents had taken of the outside of the debris of Honoress' arrival starship. "_SSV Starcutter_." His jaw dropped. It had taken him four years to connect the meanings of "_Cutter of Stars_," and "_Starcutter_." His knowledge of the two languages had not been deep enough until only recently to connect the meanings across the language barrier. The prophecy had to be true but…

"_But fear yet, for she will never love you, The way you love her. O, but she will love you still  
With her entire being_."

Perhaps he just had to wait a little longer. Hopefully the prediction would really come true. The prophecy, he realized, provided no timeframe for when she would love him. It would certainly be ironic if she found it within her to confess when he was seconds from death, or already dead. He supposed that as long as he was alive to hear her say "I love you," right to his face then he would last for a few painless moments before closing his eyes forever.

Oracle was grateful that at least he and Val were good friends. They had faked each other out so much that they had practically returned to the very beginning; he found that he was wittier and more carefree about what he said to her now that his death was on the horizon. If he had a year then he was going to make the most out of it.

Val was surprised that he seemed to improve during the fourth year of her stay on Eval'en. His cough was still there, but he was back to the friendly and a little forward man he had been when they were first communicating. The only difference was that his English was completely and utterly perfect at this point, and that he spoke without an accent. She had neglected to tell him that his voice had increased in its sexiness dramatically as he developed his own "accent," the way he pronounced the words in English was unique to him.

In a similar way her accent vanished from her Sicarian. She had a complete and scholarly mastery of the language and barely ever spoke English. Though she did keep up her discussions with Oracle and her students in English just for practice.

The _Honoress_ was completed a year ahead of schedule and Oracle offered to take her with him for a ship wide tour before the it became populated with Sicarian crewmembers. She obliged excitedly, wanting to go up into this this ship of wonders that could apparently handle anything.

They had gotten into a heavily modified dropship equipped for atmospheric travel and spaceflight and headed into the inky blackness from which Val had arrived, in which her parents had died. Val's breath stole away when she saw the massive ship that Oracle claimed was dedicated to _her_. The Destiny Ascension was all fine and good, but this behemoth was _terrifying_.

The _Honoress_ had a sleek chassis that kind of reminded her of a squid from Earth. It tapered to narrow split spike at the rear of the ship. The front was covered in paneling that looked as if it was concealing a weapon. Two huge swept-back delta wing-like spines jutted from each side of the ship and made it look even more like a dangerous killer.

The orbital hangar could not fit the entire ship, but scaffolding had been constructed that extended to reach the extremities of the massive dreadnaught. Val noticed that there were smaller, scaled-down versions of the dreadnaught, the accompanying fleet, still under construction. They docked in the expansive rear hangar of the _Honoress_, the sexual innuendo was not lost on her.

The ship was large and well-furnished; sporting the latest in shiny metals and artistic lighting. Val had never been inside a Sicarian starship but she had to admit that it was far nicer than what she was used to seeing, especially in military setting. She had to force herself to remember that the decorative water elements were actually _not_ wasting anything thanks to the dark energy relays that they used for literally everything.

She was fascinated; it was the most efficient ship she had ever seen before. They could afford to be this "wasteful" with decoration because literally nothing was sent to waste.

But was really nerve-wracking was the notion that the Sicarians had devised a way, _thousands of years prior_ to simply… spawn energy. From nothing. Oracle had tried to explain to her why it worked, but everything about the mechanics went over her head. She was proud to be part of a race that had harnessed such technology.

"Hum" meant ignorant, without senses, blind. 'An meant the embodiment of, sapient and alive. Thank the Lights she was no longer one of those Hum'ans.

"This ship is beautiful. It is so… expansive, unlike _human_ cruisers."

"They used to be a lot more cramped," Oracle explained, "but technology now is such that many of the components that used to be vital for function are gone. We no longer have use for resource routing, like water, waste, plasmas, it's all energy now. A wire, as thin as one of your fringes can power living quarters for two. Granted, that wire is insulated and heavily armored to prevent wear and tear."

Val was stunned by all of it.

"But you have not met _Honoress_ yet. She has already bonded with her captain, Tier A2 Imperator Andoriv Virkel, who volunteered when the project was in its infant stages. When the dreadnaught's command was completed, and the AI was in its early stages of development, Imperator Virkel arrived here and immediately felt the connection. He bonded with the ship a year into its production and became the first Sicarian in history to actually take the manifestation _off_ the ship and down to the planet. They should be around here somewhere…"

"Oracle, Sir!"

"Imperator Virkel, _Honoress_ Virkel," he bowed to the beings that approached. Val was expecting to see some robotic android-looking thing like the Geth, but the synthetic female Sicarian that represented the ship was difficult to distinguish from an organic one. The only thing that stood out to Val as strange was the slightly metallic skin, and her eyes, which were distinctly synthetic in their appearance. Two concentric rings almost marked the inner and outer bounds of an "iris."

Val bowed in respect.

"It is an honor Imperator and _Honoress_," she spoke formally.

"You must be _Val Shepard_," _Honoress_ concluded, "it is quite exciting to meet the being to whom I am dedicated. I do hope that we do not confuse our titles," she said with some hints of mirth. After they were both referred to as "Honoress," by many. _Honoress_ was smiling at her, "you seem a little shocked, Honoress."

"I mean no offence, but AI where I come from are not nearly as advanced as you are. They are also scorned as unstable. The last time an AI was spawned it nearly shut down the half the Citadel… a large space station housing many, many beings."

"There was a time when we were dangerous, but that was before the emulations became more realistic. Personality and morality complexes give us restraint. Although, I do not really like to talk about myself as if I am synthetic," she cast her gaze elsewhere, "Would you prefer to believe that you were alive or that you were synthetic?" she asked them all rhetorically.

"I understand," Val replied, "I apologize."

"Please do not feel upset, it is a truth we all have to face at some point…" she longed longingly at her mate who shifted and pulled her body close to his.

"Let us not dwell," Imperator Virkel spoke, "my mate shall show you around our home."

Val continued to be impressed with the spaciousness of it all. The crews' quarters were as large as hotel rooms and featured all kinds of comforts that one would never find on any other military ship. Most seemed to be designed to fit two beings; but the beds were still as small as ever, and bolted to the ceiling. Val had not looked into that, ever, she had simply forgotten all together that they did that because her bed stayed on the floor.

She made a quick note on her holo-tool to look it up later. Four years and there were still things that she did not know about their race than she would have preferred to know.

They said the forward guns took up a good ten percent of the space on the ship. Val did the calculations quickly in her head. Damn. And those were just the forwards, they had auxiliary weaponry as well as point defense at the ready. Val wondered how much more luxurious their cruise liners would be if they decided to construct one.

The Archlight drive core was the pièce de résistance of the Honoress' mechanics. They had taken the technology gleaned from the Starcutter and heavily modified it to suit the needs of the much larger and more demanding ship. Typically the core was a solid sphere of eezo that could produce the proper energy outputs to maintain the ship. This drive core was not only larger, but the shape was so strange. It was far from being a sphere… to say the least. It was enormous and complicated shape that wrapped and writhed around itself.

"Your ship the… _Starcutter_," Oracle explained, "utilized a spherical drive core, but this shape is designed for maximum surface area exposure to the element zero. We can produce up to one hundred thousand times more efficiency from the same given volume of material as a solid spherical drive core. Everything is mitigated by dark energy."

Having understood all of the jargon, Val was genuinely fascinated, again. And frightened. If what they were saying was true, this ship may not even have to travel by relay. This dreadnaught could single-handedly wipe out an entire fleet with its level of… well everything.

"You seem nervous _Val_," Oracle spoke softly to her as Imperator Virkel and _Honoress_ left them alone in the core.

"Our kind have discovered these technologies around the time that most of the galactic races were still developing civilization, Oracle, we have to make sure that restraint is shown in the face of oppression. Because, there will be those who want us gone, wiped out, destroyed. And they will try. But we have the power to decimate planets… I just cannot fathom what would happen if we actually retaliated. It would be like dust against cosmic winds…"

Oracle noticed she spoke about herself as if she were a Sicarian. "Our race," "our people." He quickly figured out that he did not mind in the slightest.

"Do not worry Honore-_ Val_, we have our best in command here. We will only keep the defensive unless we really have no other options."

Val breathed a sigh of relief. While her interests were primarily rested in the future of the Sicarians, her people, it was always wrong to commit genocide against sapient creatures whose lives held their own weight to their families, friends, and relatives. Val would not want to see her sister, her only family left, Ada Shepard, killed through some sheer mistake. Not when she had so much to live for, not when she had someone to live for like Garrus. Val hoped that they had figured it out; they had only been pining after one another for five or six years at least when she had _left_.

Lights above Ada was now twenty-three, nearly out of Anderson assuming she had actually gone to school after… that whole thing.

For the first time in years Val looked through her old omni-tool and remembered her family.


	21. Superstition

Characters from the game may or may not actually be in character. Just bear with me here. Trying to move things along for good stuff...

* * *

Ada kept in touch with the Vakarians regularly and not once did Garrus come up in conversion. And if Shepard brought him up then their faces would blank out for a moment before they would maneuver the conversation away from him. She did not want to question them and appear rude, she knew that he was in the middle of Black Ops, but she had thought that they would have some menial form of communication with their so, especially considering who they were to the Hierarchy.

The lack of information regarding her boyfriend made it worse; it was one of the reasons she had finally caved in and gone to Oshiro for help. Her performance over the four years was tentative at best; she was amazed that she pulled off what she had when her growing inner turmoil kept interfering.

And to make it worse, it seemed like people had actually tried to figure out what it was she wore around her neck and now rumors were going around that she had _killed_ a Turian for it. That alone was too close to the truth for comfort. It earned her a good rapport with a lot of the racist fucks who sauntered around Anderson and a bad rapport for those who had Turian friends. Shepard had been walking the tightrope, and was lucky that no one had managed to figure out what it meant. It was apparently obscure-enough and soon enough to the end of the First Contact Conflict that the extranet had no information regarding the exchange.

Shepard had not actually laid eyes upon Lawson for at least two years, but in her senior year she had the displeasure of sharing a classroom with the woman. Lawson, if anything, was totally xenophobic and likely one of the perpetuators of the damned rumors about her as part of her massive jealousy complex. To her dismay, Williams outright told her in a very roundabout way that she _hated_ Turians because her parents had been killed by them in the First Contact Conflict, which was news to Shepard.

With the stakes so high Shepard was exceedingly nervous that someone would figure her out. Then she would be fucked; metaphorically of course.

And after four years, Ada missed Garrus. A lot. She had expected him to at least send her a message on her omni-tool, but there was nothing from him. It was like he died as well… She hoped with all of her being that he was still alive out there. They would tell her if he had died… would they not? She felt that Oshiro was the only one who could really understand what she was going through but at the same time she did not want to remind him of what he had lost.

Each year without him piled on another layer of emptiness. It was indescribable because despite the emptiness she felt, the rest of her was telling her to move on. The inferior part of her told her to blow him off because he was away and he would never know. A one night stand could not hurt; her body demanded some kind of attention. No. _No!_

But on top of the deprivation it was the lack of having anyone she could latch onto and lie with. He had spoiled her with the perfect way he felt when he held her next to him, his slow breathing, his thrumming purr. He could trap her inside of his arms and block out everything else. Gods and Spirits she missed Garrus so much.

Over the course of her four years at Anderson she and Oshiro had grown closer as a mentor and student. Eventually she had spilled and told him about who her boyfriend actually was in an effort to glean some comfort from confession.

Oshiro had appeared to be completely abstinent after his encounter with Quintus. He was faithful to her spirit, like she was going to come back to him at any moment. He would know exactly how she was feeling and how to deal with it.

"I can tell you have something you want to say to me," he said before she had even made it five steps into the dojo.

"I usually do," she said trying to outwit her master.

"You know what I meant Ada," he shut her down.

"I miss him," she confessed.

His features softened.

"Yeah, I know what that's like. It's what I've been doing for the past twenty years or so. I think the trick, at least for me, is that I know she is waiting for me faithfully and patiently, and that we will reunite someday. I do everything for her, it's really that simple. I have my solace and my memories, imagine as if she is still by my side. I cannot really offer more advice than that. I mean for a while it was simply getting used to… the fact that she was really gone. Then after that it was convincing myself that she was still alive. Then it was telling myself that when I turned around she would be standing right behind me. All I'd have to do was keep looking forward. I still do. If you want to talk about him I'm fine with that. I had no idea that speaking with you about Verata would make _me_ feel better… Spirits I'm a forty-five year old man; I'm supposed to be over all this."

"His name is Garrus-"

"Vakarian?" he sounded shocked for once, which shocked Ada more, "I know him. _Well_, actually. He was…" he paused as if contemplating whether or not to tell her about something that he knew. He decided that he could trust Ada and just told her, "he contacted me about my work against Terra Nova. Apparently they found it within them to try and stand up again. Vakarian never got back to me on how it went. So you're telling me that your… _mate_ is a record holder Black Ops Commander? Huh. That makes me feel really good about myself for some reason. Did you know that trainees actually _study_ his combat technique? Yeah don't worry, Vakarian is about as perfect as they come, you are quite privileged to have him I hope you know."

It was strange to hear confirmation from someone else that her boyfriend was flawless. It was just more evidence that she was the weakest link in their relationship. If they broke apart it would be because she was too weak to restrain herself.

"I just… I thought that I gained some of myself back when… when he confessed. But I really didn't, and now part of me is telling me that he was just an episode. That I should move on… why is it doing that? What kind of stupidity _is_ that?"

"You have to ignore it. We have two parts: the mortal and the transcendent. The mortal side of you wants a lot of things but it stops bothering you if you give it enough time. Soon enough you're left with only the strength and the independence. But most importantly you're left with the connection. Years working against Terra Nova gave me time to allow that unfaithfulness to die; it was a good distraction while I came to terms with… well everything."

"Are you telling me-"

"You may just have to wait, yes." he finished off her question by answering it first, "or, if you think you can pull it off… then he's standing right behind you."

Shepard made to turn around even though she knew that he would not be there. Oshiro grabbed her by the shoulders and kept her facing him.

"I promise you Ada, he is standing right behind you, right there, take my word for it…"

"But he's-"

"He's _right _there, can't you feel him?"

"I…"

She could feel _something_. It was certainly not Oshiro and she knew that there was no else in the dojo at this time.

"Good," she heard him say, "I feel your energy diverting. He's always there, Ada. If you can remember that then you will be fine until the day he decides to step in front of you once again."

Now she really was tempted to turn around. Whatever the hell it was that her mentor had done was working perhaps better than she initially expected.

"Just don't turn around. I haven't for twenty years, you learn to get used to the feeling."

"Thanks Oshiro," she replied. It was beginning to scare her now, how real it was. He was there, there was no question that if she turned, he would grab her around the waist and pull her into a passionate kiss.

"Might want to reign yourself in a little there, young one," he said amused.

They warmed up with some practice moves before he showed her some of the most advanced maneuvers he could find in his arsenal. Then they sparred. Shepard could feel Garrus guiding the proper moves and dodges with an unrivaled strength. Oshiro seemed content that she had found a way to cope with his absence. He could still hold her off without many problems. Shepard knew that if he were actually sparring with Garrus, Oshiro would not have much to offer.

"Just be careful, young one, do not let his… presence overpower you. It is okay indulge sometimes, but ultimately you need to build your own strength, not his. Just give it time," he sighed as they bowed to each other and he brought her over to the small kitchen off of the main room and made her some tea. Garrus sat down next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Oshiro stared at her for a while, his eyes bouncing between her face and the space over her shoulder, before sauntering off to his office.

Shepard closed her eyes so that she would not see, and turned her face into Garrus' chest.

* * *

When Shepard came back to the room and there was something different about her. Williams narrowed her eyes.

"Ash,"

"Shep," they quickly exchanged. Shepard looked… calmer than usual. Williams could not stop looking over her friend's shoulder however, as if someone was supposed to be standing there.

"What did your mentor guy tell you this time?" Williams joked. Shepard gave her an unreadable look.

"Something useful,"

"Would he ever _not_ tell you something useful?"

"This was more useful than those though," Shepard grinned.

"Do I get to hear it?"

"You'd think we were both crazy. And the less people think we're crazy, the less we actually are. So no, is the short answer,"

"Aww… Alright Shep. I'm going to bed, night,"

"Goodnight."

Williams heard Shepard shuffle around in the bathroom for a moment and the water go on; her usual routine. She got into her bed on the opposite side of the room a few minutes later and Williamsswore on her parents' unmarked graves that there was a third person in the room. She thought she could hear two inhales and exhales belonging to separate beings over there. She twisted in her bed to stare over at where Shepard was lying. Nope, just Shepard.

Something did not look right about her position under the covers either. It was like she was lying back against something, completely relaxed… only there was nothing there. With her paranoia on high and anxieties from finals week plaguing her, Williams turned back around and tried to adjust into a comfortable position. She was _not_ insane.

She closed her eyes for a few minutes.

Okay she definitely was _not_ imagining the very inhuman purring coming from Shepard's bed. She bolted up and glared in the direction of her friend's bed and the purring stopped instantly. Great, Shepard had rubbed her crazy off on Williams, just what she needed during finals week. She tried to tell herself it was her imagination when she lay back down and closed her eyes, and the catlike, and admittedly soothing purring returned.

It was there the following nights, but she did not dare ask Shepard about it, afraid of what she might learn. Shepard was some kind of creepy cat-creature? Sometimes, she preferred blissful ignorance to truth.

* * *

Ada graduated Anderson Academy with the highest marks in her class and was funneled directly into the N3 track of the Alliance military. Oshiro had attended her graduation and congratulated her on her achievements both inside and outside of the classroom, and supported her in her endeavors in the N track. Of which, Oshiro had progressed to N7 throughout the First Contact Conflict. He had been N4 Special Ops during his encounter with Quintus.

Shepard had few days of down-time during her flight to the location in which she would receive N training. Hers was going to be a new, more experimental and immersive program than before. Shepard had been briefed on it and was excited to know that she would have a hand in shaping the program's future.

It was a joint effort between the Alliance to train their future N7 agents and the Hierarchy to train their future Black Ops agents while promoting cooperation between the two races. Black Ops agents like Garrus. Maybe he would _be_ there. Although, she would not get anywhere if he was in charge of her… she supposed that she would only receive instruction from Humans.

The program was focused around direct immersion in the field for experience while the training was going on. At the end of her N3 year, Shepard would be taken out with other N3's and Black Ops trainees to a real-world situation. They would be rated on their performance, and then the team would advance to the next level of mastery. It was not too much different from the previous system, only this one involved staying on, and operating a starship. With Turians.

The starship in question was also a joint effort between Human and Turian engineers to build the most advanced stealth starship to the day. The program was set to make sure that it rated well with a medium-sized crew, like an extended testing period. The English equivalent of the name was _Normandy_, but the Turians had something else they called it, no one told her what it was. She would have to ask the Black Ops trainees for some additional information regarding the mysterious craft.

Shepard knew it would be difficult to cope when there were other hot, Garrus-y Turians on board, but she would manage. Garrus had not left her side for a few weeks now and his presence was endearing, despite it freaking the fuck out of Williams somehow. And it could not be any worse than going out in to the field and having to kill people.

In her days off, Shepard communicated with the Vakarians about her plans and handed them information about the N program. They expressed extreme pride in her achievements, as if they were her parents, and reminded her that she was always welcome at the Vakarian residence should she ever have time off from the N program. Solana was there but unusually somber.

Shepard got the feeling during her conversation with them that there was something they were not telling her. When she looked back over what had been said they had not once mentioned Garrus. And considering both of his parents knew that they were involved, _not_ mentioning their son around her was what she would consider strange behavior. She said goodbye, promising to keep in touch when she could, knowing full-well that the N program would cut her off from the outside world during her months of training. Shore leaves would allow her some contact with her… family. And Oshiro. And Garrus if she was lucky.

* * *

Shepard was a record-breaker. She was the first twenty-four year old to ever be admitted into N3; and the first person to begin N3 without first going through N1 and N2. She would continue hold the record for the youngest N7 graduate, assuming she made it. And she would. Then she could go out and fix the problems in the galaxy; the problems that had ruined her family, and indeed the lives of trillions every second of every day.

And even if she could not see him, Garrus would be by her side every step of the way to make sure that she reined in her wants and focused on becoming the best that she could. For him.

The last day before they arrived at the _Normandy_'s docking site she found reminiscing about her family; not the Vakarians, the ones whose lives had been brutally claimed by some abominable merciless pirates.

She had never considered the possibility that one of the escape pods had successfully gotten away with her family in it. There existed the slimmest chance that they actually were alive out there somewhere. Although, they would have been taken prisoner by those shelling the _Starcutter_. Shepard shuddered and tried to stop dwelling on what might have happened to them once captured. Pirates were emotionless things, devoid of morality, whose only sustenance was money or dominance, or both.

She continued on her path of thought. Problems like terrorist organizations that clouded the image of humanity to the other races. Savages who were no better than terrorists using violence as a source of money. Shepard had been shocked to find out that Garrus had worked on Terra Nova; and after some close analysis she figured out that whatever he had experienced on his mission to stop them, had profoundly affected his character; made him so reserved and stoic all of a sudden, a different person. She blamed them for the loss of her Garrus.

* * *

Victus and Krios were legally mated in the utter and complete secrecy of Alfa Dexteras. No family members were there to see it happen other than Primarch Victus himself. He wanted to keep everything about Krios inside their knowledge and no one else's. They were lucky to have such a forward-thinking Primarch who allowed such a ground-shattering change after centuries of stasis.

Traditions were strict and orthodoxy was like a plague, which was exactly why Krios was like their secret weapon. He was the perfect assassin, impossible to detect thanks to years of training, a proficient sniper, a biotic. When they achieved feats impossible to a squad of only Turians, future agents would look back and wonder how the hell they pulled it off. And their secret would be kept.

At the same time Krios was their weakest link. He was levo which made the nutrition situation more complicated. He had these silly reservations about nudity and sexual intercourse in the presence of other Turians, and for the Spirits' sake they were his squad mates, but he would have to learn to live with it. He had not really known what to expect, apparently Victus had spared him a lot of details on Turians and their customs regarding that sort of thing, especially in a squadron setting.

But he had been "caught," so to speak, without any clothes coming on coming out of the shower and was wholly shocked when none of them razzed him for the lack thereof. They _had_ chuckled at his embarrassment if anything because it did not make sense why he would feel embarrassed in the first place. Garrus understood of course, after being around Humans for so long.

It was even better when Victus got a little feisty and he tried to tell her that there were other people in the room with them. She had an extremely hard time convincing him that they _did not care_ what they did, but she had not gotten anything out of him the first few nights. And of course that had meant that he was a little traumatized when the two other pairs in the room went at it without feeling embarrassed of the additional eyes and ears. And noses.

But eventually Krios caught up with the swing of things regarding their operation, desensitized to their "bizarre" customs, and meshed quite well with the squad's operation. He adapted to each of their fighting styles and allowed his to compliment them. He and Castus worked together a lot as a pair of infiltrators to maximize their efficiency gathering data and taking out threats before any shots had to be fired. He got to find out first hand why Garrus' joke about Reventus was not actually funny, and learned a plethora of CQC moves to use in any situation as a result.

And with a biotic in their squad, they had all sorts of additional advantages. They could train against a simulated biotic target and their various strategies. Krios taught them how to avoid being caught up in mass effect fields cast by their opponent.

They had yet to receive any assignments. They trained a lot, waiting for the day when they would be shipped out to conquer a problem and do it in utter silence.

* * *

Garrus started to feel the separation anxieties after the first week of staying the Alfa Dexteras special residence. He imagined that it would be easier for Shepard and the notion that she was not suffering was comforting to him. He hoped that she had found a way to cope with his absence because he sure as hell could not. He could tell it was going to suck after a while. He could feel the beginnings of a tingle in the back of his skull with each passing day. The depression set in slowly. He would just have to persevere. It might be years until his squad had passed their service and were released back to "normal" living. But it would be living with Shepard.

They received their first assignment in about a week later. An Asari terrorist cell, he was shocked to learn that such a thing existed, had been harassing the Hierarchy and Systems' Alliance with forged but impacted blackmail. It was _fake_, but it was so believable that if they decided to spread the information, the Hierarchy would have a tough period of recovery amongst the galactic community. The information regarded a "Turian bomb on Earth with the potential to wipe the planet of its populace." And based on how stupid Humanity tended to be about that kind of thing, they would start a war before discovering that no such device existed.

The scale of what they could provoke if they failed was not lost onto their squad; but Garrus really did not have time to be mind-boggled that they were essentially on the verge of another war with this assignment. That was really the point of Alfa Dexteras.

Their team went to Illium, where they assumed that they would gain some leads on this cell. They sent Krios and Kryik down to do some preliminary scanning while the rest of them stayed in their craft trying to rough-out a plan of action; lists of things they needed accomplished before they could make any kind of maneuvers against the cell.

Information gathering went well because no suspected a lone Turian and a lone Drell to be collaborating. After simply walking around and eavesdropping, they already had one lead. The next day Garrus went down by himself and did some hacking with Victus' help. The Illium network security was tight, and hacking into servers was risky business when so many checks were in place to prevent that sort of thing.

All they got however, was a few locations that they could check for suspicious activity according to the databases of various low-level information brokers. Whoever this cell was, they were paranoid of hackers as good as Garrus and Victus, and kept their information to themselves as much as possible. Well, except for one or two possible meeting locations. They began to set up their operations around their leads. Only hundreds of thousands of lives and years of reparation hung in the balance here.

* * *

The first night on the _Normandy_ was certainly unforgettable. She met her fellow older N3 trainees, there were twelve including her Shepard was one of four Human women there. But more importantly she met the Black Ops agents. There were also twelve of them. And they seemed strategically divided up into six male and six female Turians. Fuck. They were all hot, and she had experience with what was and was not considered attractive to Turians.

Shepard feared that Garrus' marking scent may still have been embedded in her after four years of separation. The way that all of their eyes snapped to Shepard when she walked in before her fellow N trainees was unnerving. She could not help but smirk at how reserved the Human trainees were around them. Clearly the military background bred xenophobia on both sides, and they were a little less than happy to be working with the "enemy," so soon after the First Contact Conflict.

The Black Ops group, however, were completely unfazed. They were courteous and professional despite the somewhat awkward behavior of the other N3 agents. They were basically ordered to meet everyone else in the room so they did exactly that, even if it was hilariously hesitant and wary.

At breakfast the next morning, Shepard was happy that she could go right up to one of the Turians of the group and begin talking without interruptions from his squad mates.

"Ada Shepard," she held out her hand and surprised him with a wrist-shake, "it's a pleasure to meet you," she said confidently.

"Saren Arterius, likewise," he replied, level and smooth.

"I hope you don't mind," she tried setting down her tray of food.

"Not at all," his mandibles flared a little in a good-natured grin.

Shepard stared out of the top of her vision at the sexy thing. His skin was silvery like Garrus' and his markings were cobalt streaks… like Garrus', only his were vertical. His mandibles were narrower, and his cheek ridges shot around his head making her wonder that that all crammed into a helmet. His eyes were crystal blue… like Garrus'. So she was essentially staring down a replica of her boyfriend. She could feel the talon graze her chest possessively.

She and Arterius chatted over their meals before they turned in their trays and separated from one another. They headed off to their respecting on-board training sessions. They were going to drop to a planet side base for some agility work later that day.

Shepard was pestered by her fellow N3 trainees because she had decided to say more than two words to the creepy aliens. She also suspected that their pride was hurt by the fact that she was in N3 so young. And not only that, but she was one of four senior officers. When they were split into four squads of three for training, she would always hold a leader position.

It made them difficult to work with when they constantly hesitated and danced around her command. It was childish.

Shepard was able to find some release in the sparring matches that the Black Ops agents would get into in their free time. Oshiro had taught as much as he could in four years, which was a lot, and she could put it to good use against someone who would not bitch about it if she was able to pin them.

The first Turian she sparred against was, of course, Arterius. She could see that he was not expecting her to exhibit the level of mastery that she did. But with Garrus to guide her it was easy to pin him. When she let him up he was just the same as always, intrigued over some of her moves and asked her to demonstrate a few for him so he could learn something. She noticed that the other Turians were discussing it, analyzing her moves to figure out how to improve themselves. Her people looked smug that she had beat up on a big bad Turian. She kind of wished they would demonstrate the level of professionalism that the Black Ops agents did.

Saren got out of the ring and began to talk with a few of the Turains over there about something. None appeared to be razzing him about his "loss." Shepard went over and joined them and quickly made friends discussing her strategies. Honestly she preferred the professional company of the Black Ops guys to the familiarity of the Humans. It took her a while to convince one of them to join her for a meal with them.

Slowly the two "sides" warmed up to each other, following Shepard and Arterius leads.

* * *

"Shepard," he stalked up to her one day, clearly with a purpose.

"Arterius."

He pointed at the band around her neck and looked at her intently.

"Um… shit."

"Just don't let anyone else find out. It slipped out while we were sparring but I managed to put it back under your… a… clothing before anyone could notice."

"You- really?" she asked in disbelief. Not only had he made it so quick that she had not noticed, but he had the sense to keep her secret.

"Listen, my father is extremely anti-human, my mother was lost in the Conflict; she was trying to talk down a fight and they shot her," Shepard could not mistake the fact that he was borderline furious, but not at her "So far I haven't seen anything redeeming about your kind's 'finest' over there. Except for you."

"Uh… thank you. I have nothing to offer in their defense, they made their choice to be close-minded. And stop hitting on me. You're super hot, alright, but I'm already committed," it was his turn to be a little flustered at her simultaneous advance and retreat.

"Anyway," he continued, "I know some of the other Black Ops agents here are not quite as forgiving as me; I get it from my mother. If they found that you are… _committed_ to a Turian, you would lose everything that you have gained. Probably amongst your troupe as well."

"That's why I've kept it as hidden as possible, the Conflict is too recent for time to iron out the grudges. But I'm sure as hell not going to take it off. Thank you so much…"

"I know this is pushing it, dishonorable as all hell, but can I ask a favor of you in return?"

"That depends on the favor,"

"It's simple. Who?" he pointed again to the band around her neck.

"Arterius," she growled along with Garrus, "if you tell _anyone_ about this behind my back… I will kick your ass. Then my boyfriend will kick your ass even harder… And I don't mean only physically. You will be ruined in every respect. This is not the kind of secret I want to get out."

"You'll have to trust me," he said sincerely. She trusted him of course, time had proven his reliability and honesty, but she still did know him well enough to predict his behavior about this kind of thing.

"I'm only going to say this once, so you better listen. Garrus Vakarian."

* * *

Liara T'soni was a deceptive little thing. Garrus knew from the get-go that she used her look of innocence to fuck with anyone stupid enough to fall in her traps. She was a well-known high-level information broker on Illium, and after their careful observation they discovered that she had information, likely available for purchase somewhere, regarding the cell. She was also likely to be in possession of information about the Systems' Alliance and the Hierarchy that the cell was using to get under their skin so easily.

But he was not interested in paying her, and while he was not very fond of…_ interrogation_, he really did not have the goddamn patience to put up with people like her. Always on the sideline controlling the battles, always looking forward to the next heap of money.

And clearly, she had been notified that there was a squad of six Turians walking in tight formation through Illium to her office because the number of guards had sharply increased between their time of landing and their approach. She was blissfully unaware of the master Drell assassin, practically standing right behind her.

They used Krios' omni-tool to funnel a few high-powered bugs into the systems and effectively make them completely invisible. Locks overridden without registering anything, camera looping, sensor looping… everything was in place for their little meeting. Castus had a field day stunning the few guards on the way to the broker's office and clearing a suitable path for the rest of their squad.

T'soni looked flustered when six heavily armed and anonymous Turians entered her office without any previous notification. She reached underneath her desk for the pistol they knew she kept there, thanks to Krios, and attempted to fire at them. Garrus chuckled behind his mask as she discovered that her thermal mags were missing.

Next she tried her biotics on Garrus. Luckily, they had all learned techniques to slip out of biotic force fields, and the kinetic barriers on their armor helped out a great deal. She was powerful, but not powerful enough to keep him there. His squad mates drew their weapons and lowered them, hoping that she would calm the fuck down for long enough to open her pretty little mouth and talk.

The effects wore off quickly.

"Who are you? How did you get in here? Who sent you?" she snapped at them angrily and fiercely, already betraying her mask of innocence.

"There are seven people with their weapons ready to fire, miss T'soni," her eyes widened when she realized that the seventh person could be _anywhere_, "_I _will be asking _you _the questions. Not the other way around."

"I will tell you nothing! You can't just-"

All Garrus had to do was raise his hand and step forward aggressively to cease her talking.

"Cute," he sarcastically soothed and entered her personal space, towering over her form. Garrus gave a hand motion and one of his squad pulled a chair over for him, "Sit down and let's talk."

"I refuse," she tried to project an aura of strength but he could tell it was failing rapidly.

"Alright, I'll sit down then," he took a seat in the chair and relaxed a little. The others spread around the room, making it impossible for her to take him hostage and use him as a meat shield. It was also an easy test to see if she could focus on more than one thing at once; his guard was down, but there were six others on complete alert.

"I'm going to-"

"Stop. Talking." Garrus growled from his seat. He saw the smallest hint of a shiver run through her legs, but not her torso. Oh so she was… like _that_. "Miss T'soni, we have reason to believe that you are holding onto to information that could cause quite a few problems for quite a few people. I implore you to hand over all information regarding this rogue Asari terrorist cell, as well as volatile information regarding the Systems' Alliance and the Turian Hierarchy that they have been purchasing from you. In exchange for your compliance, you can continue your nice, cushy lifestyle as an information broker here as well as hold onto your little empire you've worked so hard to create."

She narrowed her eyes.

"Let me guess-"

"No, I won't. You have half an hour to do as I have asked. Otherwise, your empire comes crashing down. While mutually counterproductive of course, there are… less convenient but equally viable alternatives to stopping this group."

"And what exactly are you planning to do?" she sneered with the knowledge that they needed her.

"Your servers will be wiped cleaner than the floor of your office, before, of course, the building goes down from all those demolition charges; then the floor would probably be covered in rubble."

Her eyes widened. Unfortunately, they needed her knowledge of the information to get what they wanted; no amount of hacking could pinpoint specific files among _billions_. But they could kill her entire "maximum security" network had their kill switch ready to go, but the bit about the charges was a lie. There was a heavy silence between them as she carefully sat down in her seat and contemplated whether or not she should do what they were asking of her.

"Give me a few minutes," she said quietly, keeping her eyes anywhere but his. Their data stores flooded with information that was scanned for malware then dumped through thousands of comms buoys before finally landing in a heavily encrypted server back on Palaven deep beneath the ground. Alliance information would be handed back to the proper people. Most importantly, they received their leads on the cell they were after.

"Thank you for cooperating miss T'soni. If we detect that you are withholding more information… well let's just say that the consequences would be less than desirable. But that won't happen. As our thanks for your service, we will personally see to it that your reputation is kept intact. Perhaps we will meet again under friendlier circumstances," Garrus purred calmly as he rose.

He grazed her shoulder with his armored hand and immediately read her secrets. The way she ever so slightly leaned into his touch as she recoiled, the single shallow breath, the intense fire in her eyes for an instant before the guilt that she felt from the excitement. The pleasant smell of arousal that she tried desperately to hide. It was all too perfect. She lived such a public life of power and domination, that she _loved_ being dominated when it came to her personal life. The way she moved told him that she preferred strictly male lovers.

"Bastard," she muttered angrily.

"I'm sure he loves it when you put that dirty little mouth of yours to good use," he jested before they left her with her jaw on the floor. Garrus could feel his squad mates smirking at the nerve he had struck; she had not done such a good job of keeping her personal secrets personal.

They moved on to their next task. They had transmission logs between members of this cell which they traced to multiple planets in different star-systems as well as the Citadel. Palaven was on that list which made Garrus and his squad ache with anger. _Earth_ was on that list! This cell was no longer limited to Asari, but had Humans and Turians working to see to it that they galaxy was once again plunged into chaos. Those fucks wanted a clear victor to the Conflict, which meant ruining thousands more lives to get it.

Garrus thought about his Ada. If this took away his future with her then he would break.


	22. Foreshadowing

Soz for slow updates :(

* * *

"Sir!"

"Yes Agent," Oracle replied.

"We have found something with the new scanners… something absolutely massive," his Agent sounded excited and terrified at the same time.

"Please continue…"

"Cornov… it's just a _shell_ for something!"

"Explain to me what you mean. It is still gibberish to me."

"The element zero scanner detected that Cornov is housing something massive; the surface is nothing more than a relatively thin shell for the device hidden inside."

"And this device is what exactly?"

"We just got results and we are awaiting more. I will keep you updated Sir!"

"Thank you Agent."

Oracle turned back to his work and was able to concentrate for a few minutes before his head wracked with pain.

_Once the fragile hatchling breaks its shell,_  
_The monster trapped becomes a monster freed._  
_The floodgate is revealed;_  
_It can only be opened._  
_But it does not hold them back;_  
_It holds you back_  
_You sovereign reapers:, harbingers of death_  
_From a War of Ignorance which they cannot win._

He wrote down the latest prophecy, clearly regarding the device that they were discovering inside one of the planets on the rim of their solar system. The hatchling was this mystery device. He found it a little unsettling that it was described as "fragile," but that could mean any number of things; and he assumed that it was deeper than physically fragile; something about the concept of it or the use of it was fragile.

Although the hatchling and the monster trapped were clearly two different entities. That sounded ominous enough. Perhaps there was some other life in their system they had somehow overlooked, which was unlikely. The "monster" could really be anything, but he had a sneaking suspicion that it was Sicarian-kind.

It was floodgate which implied that that opening it would have negative repercussions. "Them" was too vague, but he assumed that it simply meant anyone on the other side. Humans, Turi'ans, Asa'ri, Salari'ans, etc… So they, the Sicarians, were this "negative" flood force; which kind of backed up the "monsters" description. That was not exactly the most endearing thing. But it gave some basic information about the nature of the device. Assuming it was literally a floodgate, it would move them; their fleet.

"sovereign reapers, harbingers of death." That was pretty obvious, but he wondered how it was they would assume that description. He had promised Val to tell his Imperators to play only on the defensive. There would be no mindless slaughter under his leadership. If they were destined to be seen as such, then it was not by any extent of their own actions. The next line confirmed everything.

"War of Ignorance." This mystery contraption was going to start a war. They would be seen as monsters by those who refused to understand them. No matter what they did to stop the outbreak it would impossible to contain. Oracle was not too keen on that; but he had the feeling that they were going to end up utilizing whatever it was inside Cornov and they would find themselves embroiled in a war.

They had not fought a war for thousands of years.

Oracle coughed blood onto his glove. He had a year and a half and he would see this through.

* * *

The shell around the device broke on its own three days later, as if detecting that they were prepared and ready to use it. The thing was huge and majestic, far larger than anyone could have imagined. He had shown Val and she had stared back at him with a shocked expression and racing heart.

"_That's a mass relay_," she breathed.

"_A what?_" she seemed to know what she was talking about which immediately grabbed his attention.

"A _mass relay_. I cannot find a proper equivalent in Sicarian to describe it. But it allows for faster than light travel to an extreme extent. Starships can clear the galaxy in mere days. Ships gather a launch vector and then the _mass relay_ accelerates them in a straight line to the next relay."

"That is very useful information Val, thank you. But how much faster than light does the _mass relay_ allow?"

"Standard craft can reach twenty to thirty times the speed of light with normal cores. The relay augments that to one hundred to one hundred and twenty times."

"Is that all? Surely it cannot be that slow?"

"Are you telling me that your ships are faster?" her eyes widened.

"The _Honoress_ can reach a top speed, unassisted in this case, of two hundred times the speed of light. The smaller ships are a little slower than that but close enough."

"Then… you do not even need the _mass relays_. Lights above you could clear the galaxy in hours… minutes, even."

"I suppose not," perhaps they could avoid using it all together and therefore avoid the war. He thought for a few seconds, "But you did say they were aimed at other _mass relays_?"

"Yes,"

"So we use them for direction; because I assume that the others are in populated locations as well."

"Of course. If this one that you have discovered takes the fleet to a known location, then I can tell you how to reach the Citadel. We will want our fleet to eventually arrive there so our kind can join the council or races where we belong."

"We will bear that in mind. Will you come with me to my office when the time comes to see off the fleet then?"

"Of course," she sounded a bit winded by his offer. She had never seen his workplace nor had he ever asked her to oversee anything regarding planetary operation. It felt like too much power for her to basically be directing an _entire fleet_ of starships around. Although, she knew the entire galaxy by memory; she would write down everything she could fish out of her memory about the relays and how each connected to one another.

"Although Oracle," she began.

"Yes _Val_?"

"I think that the _mass relay _that we have discovered is most likely included in the list of those deemed 'illegal' to activate."

"Please explain?"

"There is a quantity of relays that have been deemed permanently inactive; after a rampant war broke out with a race known as the _Rachni_, the relays were closed down for safety reasons. Among them, unfortunately, was _Relay 314_, a gateway we activated. We broke galactic law by going through that relay and the First Contact Conflict erupted from that. But I know that when we step through that _relay_ at the ends of the solar system, we have learned from the mistakes made. We can prevent any type of conflict."

She spoke sincerely, but Val did not know that when two events linked together, they were strictly bound. If they activated the relay, there would have to be a war. There was simply no way to avoid it. He decided against telling her so she could feel better. When she was anxious or nervous he felt it too, and he preferred that she stay calm and happy. There was no need for her life to be ruined by those emotions.

Oracle transmitted everything she had told him to his diplomats and his scientists. Her reassurance that they would make their entrance without a fight was sweet, but he warned the crews of the flagship fleet that there would be fighting once they reached wherever the relay took them. They would not be the aggressors he would make sure of that, but he could not make any promises that they could stay docile. If they were attacked, they may be forced into acts of defense.

If the armor on the _Starcutter_ had been anything to go by, then even the light weaponry on their smallest cruiser would rip them to shreds easily. The _Starcutter_ had what Val called "_kinetic barriers_," which were designed to protect against damage and help with FTL, but they were quite weak. Oracle was aware that the starship had already been damaged, but according to statistics farmed from the _Starcutter's _specifications, full strength was not really that strong.

The _Honoress_ would likely have the capacity to withstand a sizeable barrage of fire from a fleet for an hour or two; but it would be unable to vent energy fast enough to prevent an overload if the fire was too great. Especially if a dreadnaught-class starship was included in the catalogue of possible attackers.

They needed a few months, perhaps, to study the device and the signals it was giving off so they could make sense of them.

* * *

Val had finally gotten around to reading up on some of the Sicarian customs to which she was still blind after so much time.

Sicarians bolted their beds to the ceiling because that was how they had slept for the duration of their evolution; hanging from something, out of the way of danger. Their wings were large enough to wrap around the underside of the bed and then support their legs. She learned about their oddly curious but fascinating bone clutch system which engaged whenever they lost consciousness or wanted to keep still. It allowed them to freeze in any stable position and then relax all of their muscles so they would not have to be used.

That of course got Val wondering how it was that two of them could fit on a bed that small. She quickly entered into the domain of Sicarian intimacy that she had staunchly avoided for years; afraid of what she would find. They were so different than _humans_, which included _everything_ by nature.

Sicarians operated in pairs. Unlike the standard "procreation drive" style of evolution, they had come to a point long ago where the need to reproduce was undercut by other factors. A male and female would traditionally court for days and eventually bind in seconds, "love" was not a gray zone and the word carried all sorts of different meanings to them than it did for _humans_. Then they would hunt together, sexual dimorphism peaked in their hunting capabilities: the male acted as a lure with his superior ability to call, scent, and thermally mask. The female was the killer. She was smaller, faster, and lighter; far better equipped for a lightning strike. She sported tighter muscle-clusters than the male for additional strength, longer and sharper wingtips for cleaner, easier slicing.

One needed the other for survival. Soon enough, that need became completely biological, and sorts of biologically encoded _incentives_ developed to keep a mated couple together. Which mostly amounted to all sorts of pleasure-specific specialties. She already knew of the tongue thing, the seventy-six centimeter, ambrosia-injecting tongue thing… Val skipped over that part after reading the words: "the sexual organ of the Sicarian male consists of-"

The way they slept was "bad enough;" the male trapped his mate between himself and the bed, giving his body as protection and warmth. He held her with the armatures on his chest, waist, and knees, which exposed his soft abdomen as a sign of trust and intimacy. Displaying those armatures was pretty much as intimate as it got, which was why even Sicarian underwear covered them. The female could wrap her wings around her mate and guard them using her far deadlier and more powerful wing armatures.

Which turned her on. She tried to push images of Oracle wrapping her up with his large and powerful wings, holding her close, purring, and pinning her to the bed, _on the ceiling_, out of her mind. The trust in such a thing was so implicit and so enticing she found herself shudder at the intrusive thoughts. She could smell herself, which was bad sign that her composure was being lost. Val did her best to gather her wits.

She headed into the bathroom to take a look at the progress of her markings in the mirror. They had started to break out faster in the more recent months. Coros estimated that it would take another year for them to finish spreading and developing completely; which included the ability for her to voluntarily brighten each individual marking to her heart's desire.

In that moment, her heart desired Oracle. She removed her shirt and turned around slowly, checking over herself. The electric blue strips wavered around her curves quite exquisitely and cast a cool glow around her. They covered her chest and inched out onto her shoulders, and a bundle of markings wrapped around her waist like fucking landing lights, in case it was not obvious where her pleasurable center was. The rings in her irises, however, had finished off completely. The luminescent chemicals there seeped between the thin crevices and ridges of her crystal irises.

Val was modest of course, but she could not deny that it was amazingly beautiful. Another year and she would be able to control them, make them dance and undulate alluringly. Hopefully to Oracle if she ever worked up the courage to attempt to court him.

But at the same time, she was an abomination: some kind of half-formed Sicarian trapped inside a _human_ form. No _human_ would ever want her because of her changes. She was too tall and the visible, clearly _inhuman_ corded muscles underneath her smooth, hairless skin were unattractive and horrifying. She was lucky that her eyelashes and eyebrows had decided to stick around even if they lost some of their initial volume. Her tongue, narrowed at one end and longer than before labeled her as a freak. Her teeth, far too white and slightly pointier than normal would scare anyone off.

Those changes were still underway. She would be taller, stronger, and more freakish yet. Val sighed as her unique markings ceased to glow. For now, the markings only illuminated when she visited her heart's most wanted. Thinking of anything else scared them off.

Val supposed nothing really mattered. She could cope with it just fine, being that she was mostly _human_. She bowed her head and hunched over, not wanting to think too much about anything. Val hopped into the shower for the catharsis of it and took her time under the hot water. She appreciated the color settings that it offered, and dimmed the lights to a cool blue like her markings.

"Oracle, if the technology exists to clean your scales instantly, then why are there still showers?" she had asked a few years prior.

He had mulled it over in his head for a few seconds.

"_Which would you prefer: the cleansing and cathartic feeling of warm water over your skin, or stepping into a cold glass stall for an instant?"_

Val had thought about what he said and it made perfect sense.

"_Point taken_."

"_We still cook our food on stoves and in ovens, even though we are capable of synthesizing anything immediately. While technology can replace everything, some things can never be replaced by technology… "_

Val turned off the water, dried herself, and then got into her nightwear and climbed into her upside-down, vulnerable, and exposed bed and fell asleep.

* * *

Val opened her eyes a few seconds later and obliged to her sudden compulsion to check the markings again. She was still shaking off the sleep, a very _human _mannerism of her, as she walked into the bathroom and planted her palms onto the smooth countertop. The pleasant and tranquil glow of her markings bounced around the room.

She looked up at herself on the mirror and her jaw dropped. Her arms were covered in them; and they crawled out of her nightgown and up her neck. She removed her shirt and saw that they were completely developed; fully realized and functional.

Their completion had certainly arrived sooner than she expected. Val could _feel_ each marking burning beneath her skin, like a soft touch, and practiced sending shockwaves down them systematically, turning around to see the map on her back. Val felt an indescribably heightened sensation of happiness and success at her control. Her superconscious controlled them flawlessly, rippling and pulsating them in waves that flowed slowly around her beige curves. The only lights that remained constant were the rings in her irises.

The room filled with lavender and citrus and light breeze ghosted over her neck.

The burning amber orbs that flared behind her caught her attention and her focus snapped to it without having to change the direction of her gaze. A shockwave of fire surged down the cracks quickly, outlining a very tall being. The orbs stayed lit, floating above her head. Her markings flashed out and she was bathed in darkness, with the exception of the smooth amber crystals and the sapphire rings of her irises.

A warm drop of water seemed to settle on her skin, just below the neck, and trickle down her back slowly as if guided by the hand of another. In the mirror she could see her glow casting upon a scaly surface. The sensation moved around her waist, this time she guided it, illuminating the markings directly under its epicenter. She noticed the amber grooves on the form behind her intensified in the same location. Val was controlled these amber markings as well, communicating with them.

Suddenly she was engulfed in the pleasant warmth of hundreds of different points that where both directed by her mind and the mind of another. The two sets of markings flared and danced identically to one another, harmonizing, testing the other carefully for compatibility. It was a complex, elegant, and breathtakingly beautiful sight.

The luminosity increased slowly, journeying towards a climactic peak. With each passing moment Val could better see the form of her mysterious visitor defined. She turned around finally and locked her focus onto the orbs, those that remained completely unmoving throughout.

Finally it was so bright that Val could tell exactly who that was.

Oracle.

Everything after that happened too quickly for proper comprehension. Their bioluminescence reached the peak of its brightness, the overwhelming sensation that she was being touched everywhere on her body at once overcame her.

A rushing sound filled her ears. She heard a shower of snapping noises. Oracle's wings expanded like magnificent walls of fire protruding from his back, their membranes alight. They swept forward and around her as he stepped flush to her body. His chest, his torso, and waist were smoother than silk. Val was completely surrounded by him as the armatures on his chest, hips, and knees pulled her closer and then unsheathed the wing membranes. They wrapped her up like a cocoon and held her fast.

Her core stung from the arousal.

Oracle's lips were upon hers and she accepted them willingly, surprised at his sudden admission of love for her without saying a word. She was still coming to terms with her own feelings, dodging around, but this sudden forwardness outright convinced her… that she _wanted_ him. Not necessarily that she loved him.

Their tongues met and tangled; she could feel the two fangs on the underside of the tip twitch. She passed her tongue over the tips of the retraced fangs, lapping at the ambrosia that they slowly dripped. Eventually she began to suck, thirsty. The two halves of his jaw split against her lip and caressed it slowly. He moved around, tongue still massaging inside of her mouth, and kissed her along the neck. Seventy-six centi- She moaned as the pleasant warmth spread down her throat and into her stomach, this had to be a dream.

Oracle's son'os hummed against her breasts, the vibrations relaxing her muscles. She felt herself pulled upwards and his palms came to rest on her face.

"My Archlight," he whispered, and like fuel for the Armageddon flame she was consumed from the core up by blinding pleasure, her cry of ecstasy complete gibberish as she forgot how to speak.

* * *

"Ilus!" she sat up out of the covers so abruptly flailing her arms about that they flew from her. Val looked around quickly, frantically, confused.

And then she _smelled_ her embarrassment. Val groaned, knowing that it had all been a dream; everything about it was too damn convenient. Reading about Sicarian intimacy must have rubbed off on her. Or, put quite frankly, rubbed her off. All over the sheets. It _reeked_ of her orgasm and for once, she was thankful to the Lights that Oracle was _not_ there to wake her. He would have picked it up, and there would have been questions. And the smell of her lies would have drown out everything else.

Val breathed slowly to calm herself. She had to get the sheets, and probably the whole damn bed, laundered to get the smell out. Lights above, her core was still burning. She swore under her breath.

Thank the Lights he had not been there. She could not stop the waves upon waves of relief that he was not there the night she decided to feel sexually deprived and frustrated. She hauled herself out of bed and ripped everything off the mattress. She dragged them over to the laundry machine in her room and pressed the instant-clean button.

The shower had the same function, which she used to banish her revealing fluids from the mattress itself. She stuffed the relatively small thing into the spacious shower stall specifically designed for _two_ beings, and used the "instant-clean" feature to zap the thing free of her shame.

She quickly got on it, reassembling her bed and falling back asleep. She would rather have another nightmare, because at least that way she could mask out her own insecurity.

* * *

"Your… he's… not even…"

Shepard grinned maniacally as he stuttered.

"I don't believe it," Arterius huffed.

"And why is that?" she prepared for a possibly offensive of derogatory statement about how she was not good enough for a Turian like Garrus. Arterius growled with frustration.

"You already know what I'm going to tell you, I'll stop myself from offending you" he muttered more to himself, "alright then another question: How?"

Shepard raised an eyebrow.

"You know our families' history right?"

"In which context? I know that the Shepard family and the Vakarian clan worked together to stop the Conflict-"

"Exactly. Garrus and I have been around each other since the day we were born. That's how."

Arterius stared at her blankly for a moment and then nodded reluctantly.

"Have you-" he began but Shepard already knew what he was about to ask.

"Listen, I'm practically part Turian from being around them for so long. I haven't thought about anyone else, I haven't made a move on anyone else. Maybe it's just me, but there is something binding us. Ever wonder why I tiny little human such as myself can hand you your ass in a sparring match? Think I could pull that off if he was not by my side, guiding me?"

Arterius shook his head.

"Now, is there something else you'd like to talk about?" she questioned.

"No, thank you Shepard," he bowed and then headed off to his quarters.

Shepard watched him go and leave her completely alone in the hallway with Garrus. She leaned back against him and relished the feeling. Eventually she returned her weight to her own two feet and walked back to her bunk. Garrus helped her into the bed so that she would not wake her bunkmate.

She was not insane. Yet.

* * *

Garrus' squad gained lists of people to go and talk to, meetings to ambush, targets to assassinate. Just like with Terra Nova, they went to work under the radar, completely silent in their investigation, leaving no trace of their existence. This cell without a name that they temporarily called the Cell, was a scary thing. There were Spectres, diplomats and bureaucratic figureheads involved in multiple locations in the conspiracy.

No amount of defense could protect them. A ghost knows no walls.

The Cell collapsed after six months. Six months of tribulation, strenuous work, chase, and preoccupation that each bullet could start another war. Five Spectres: three Asari and two Turian, six ambassadors: three Human, two Asari, and one Turian, countless PMC mercs of all races, and three Asari "business women" warlords were all "missing." Dead: clean and quick all of them. The political scene was saved by each respective government explaining discreetly to the council what was going on. To say they were thankful was an understatement.

But after six months, everything paid off. The Cell was no longer a threat. The information regarding the imaginary bomb had been disposed of properly and those responsible for perpetuating it were dead. Their Alfa Dexteras squad was given a small recognition ceremony amongst the others for their outstanding work dealing with the problem. Most importantly, they had dealt with the issue before anyone in the "overworld," as they called it, realized that anything was ever wrong.

They were granted four days of severely limited "overworld" contact, which amounted to going into Cipritine and getting meals, seeing vids, enjoying the fresh air. In Krios' case, it was staying indoors with Victus in some much-desired privacy. The poor Drell had never fully come to terms with the shame of taking his mate in their presence, but it had not really stopped him.

Six months of internal deterioration had Garrus a little more reckless on the battlefield, and his squad members noticed. He was needlessly aggressive where he used to be lithe and poised. He took more fire than he normally did and his temperament was shorter with the squad. What was worse: he saw these changes happening and felt guilty and powerless to stop them. His squad offered some support, but it was not enough to repair him.

He wanted with such madness to just talk to Shepard; she would keep his sanity in check if she were to say but a few words.

"Hey Garrus," Victus said from the doorway.

"Aliva," he replied quietly.

She sauntered over and sat down on his cot, staring at his position at the desk. He received a ping on his omni-tool from her with a photo attachment. He opened and it his heart nearly broke. How she had obtained it was completely irrelevant, he could care less about the actions of his squad mates for they were always in good judgment and always productive.

The image showed his Ada, head bent down, eyes closed, lips pressed against her fingers in a tranquil smile. The small chain around her neck disappeared between her fingers, concealing his talon. A warm feeling spread around his skin. Perhaps it would be enough.

"Spirits I miss her. I don't know how I'm going to make it Aliva, and if everything goes sideways which I suspect it will, you have squad lead. I have nothing to add here anymore anyway," he spoke quietly and without emotion, "Kryik is a better tactician than I am, Reventus is a better at CQC than I am, we have a master infiltrator, a sniper who can perform all the tasks I can, a _biotic_ _assassin_… tell me exactly what I am still doing here"

Victus' mandibles drooped.

"Garrus-"

"It's going to get worse, Aliva. So accept my death now, so that when I pass on later it is easier for everyone."

"You can't talk like that Garrus."

"I can and I did. And I will. It's not pessimism, it's the truth. I'll fight until my last breath to see her again, but I can't make any sound promises that I'll survive."

"Garrus just…"

"This is an amazing holo, thank you Victus," he continued his observation of the image. She keened softly and then left the room.

Garrus tried to conjure her; place her presence with his so vividly that he could practically touch her. He nearly succeeded, but in the end he could not do it. Perhaps it was a sign that he was not meant for her after all, or that she was rejecting him and moving on. After all, she was human. As much as he trusted her, he would never blame her for finding some better match for herself.

He allowed the image to give him some solace. Spirits she was so beautiful.

He packed some gear and headed into the woods for a night alone. He brought his sniper rifle for some target practice and vanished.

* * *

Oracle's condition was slowly degenerating again. The stimulants they had been administering were only good for so long before the Sicarian immune system, one of the more powerful forces they knew of, dealt with the repeated use of the drug. His free year was gone. He had one more year and a half before he could finally pass on his gift to Councilor Oravos, regain his individuality in his last dying moments, profess to Val assuming she was even around, and then die before she could tell him she did not love him back.

He routinely visited Sevist for checkups on his condition and each time they were worse. There was no sign of slowing or stopping or improving.

And every time he had work to do he was haunted with the fear that Val would wake up from one of her terrible, vivid nightmares completely alone. He considered just telling Tare'an to go in there and perform the same duties that Oracle had for the past four and half years, but he did not want to waste his Chief of Guard's time. Oh but he ached for Val's comfort, and was seriously torn between asking Axess to do it and allowing Val to sleep alone.

The other problem with that was it caused him to start sleeping restlessly, and his performance as the director of operations of the entire planet suffered from it. He had to call in the 100th more and more to do his job for him as he took time to attempt resting. Sevist reluctantly gave him more medications to help him fall asleep.

"Oracle, if I give you more medications then you may never recover from the internal damage. You are already taking a powerful stimulant. Mixing a depressant into your bloodstream will wreak havoc on your body," Sevist was extremely worried.

"That is completely fine with me," Oracle replied, "I am not planning on making a recovery. Listen, I regret it very much to pull rank on you, but I mandate that you prescribe sleeping agents so that at least I can keep working with maximum efficiency," he was growling, frustrated and impatient. Coros' jaw twitched and Oracle felt his superconscious cry out with the agony that he might lose one of his best friends. Oracle could care less at this point. His doctor had a complete and happy life that he could continue to live, and his death would not affect it very much. But he did understand the pain.

"Oracle please…" he was begging now. By law he was unable to disobey a mandate, but he would still try to have it revoked.

"Do it."

"I am begging you Oracle, revoke the mandate, for the Lights above please revoke the mandate,"

Oracle trilled in the negative.

"If I am not rested, even artificially, the entire planet suffers from my incompetence. And until I am dead I will remain in my position as protector. Do it!" he barked the last command with authority. Coros flinched and did as he asked, prescribing a dosage of sleeping agents that would knock him out for a few hours each.

"Oracle-"

"Thank you Senatas," Oracle bitterly interrupted before leaving the office. Sevist was left there, lenses coated over in sadness. Oracle was like a second son to him; he had been a part of Oracle's life every step of the way since childhood. His parents had even shared his birth name with him. He would be devastated by the death of Oracle as much as his own son and daughter.

Time dragged by slowly after that. Val mostly slept peacefully, the nightmares went away to be replaced more pleasant dreams of random sights and memories that she could relive with complete clarity. Mostly they revolved around her beginning encounters with Oracle. He was so adorable back then as he learned from her and taught to her. He was the exact opposite of the way he was now: dead tired, lacking in the energy he used to have, lacking in the awkward sense of humor that always made her giggle.

When he came to see her it was usually a few days at a time. They would usually go to the monument to spend time talking amongst the beautiful landscaping and the majestic spire. Other times they would walk around Vir'atras and get something to eat. Oracle would periodically prepared her meals like breakfast and dinner, but occasionally they went out for those as well. Val was beginning to see a pattern here, but it was her humanity that kept her in the gray zone.

He continued to cough up blood and attempt to hide it; but she could smell it now thanks to her changes. Every time she tried to talk to him about it and find out what was wrong, he would smile tiredly and tell her that it was nothing and that she should not worry. That is was minor. Only, his reluctance to tell her caused to worry more, and became the source of almost all of her nightmares.

She avoided reading anything about Sicarian sexuality whenever he was back at home, knowing full well that it would be a disaster like the previous occasion. Only, part of her wanted so badly to go back to that dream and live the rest of it. There was no way that it could be as convenient as her mind had constructed it to be; there had to be something about them that was completely opposite to _humans_. She refused to look it up even thought it was such easy access at this point. She would prefer to think of them without convoluting everything with her _complete_ knowledge of them.

_One year_, the voice in her head whispered, stronger than before.

* * *

Shepard was a little skittish going down into her unique N3 qualifier exam. She had not taken a life before, which was the source of her nervousness, but hours and hours of training in the VR room with live motion-captured targets desensitized her somewhat. She rolled her shoulders, Garrus' fingers kneading the muscles comfortably. He was reassuring her that it would be okay.

Her squad's mission was to take down a blue suns mercenary patrol that had taken potshots at an Alliance squadron during a training run. They were cleared for either capture or execution. Six targets, heavily armed, but considerably stupid and inexperienced.

The catch was that the squad she was going to lead had to include two Turians. Shepard practically sighed in relief at how unfair that was for the enemy. She selected Arterius instantly and a Turian female friend of hers, Dera Valian, whom she sparred with often and shared a relatively tight bond. The other Human in her squad, Adam Jole, was one of the more open-minded males of the lot, one whose life had never revolved around the First Contact Conflict. That gave her a talented biotic, a flawless sniper and infiltrator, and two unstoppable main assault soldier-tacticians.

She and Arterius shared command of the other two; both of their orders were valid and applied across the entire squad.

They dropped to the planet's surface and scurried off to set up camp somewhere they would be completely out of sight. Part of their examination was to elude orbital surveillance by masking their footprint on the ground. They would be given two and half hours of blindness to dig themselves in. If, by that time, they were unable to be found scanners, they would have aced that part of the test.

With their thermal tarps and optical camouflage set and ready within the hour of their landing they had plenty of time to scout around their campsite for threats. They were real; it was as from training as possible. If they were captured, then their resident N7 or Black Ops commander would come and bail them out. But what happened between their rescue and their capture was entire up to the mercenaries. And that was never a good thing.

Also they would fail their test and have to retake in order to advance. However, if they were captured and _escaped_… that was a far different story.

As the sun set they spotted their targets: a small grouping of Eclipse mercs walking around unsuspecting of the assassins and masters of war in the trees. They monitored comms for a few minutes as they passed along the road they were watching from a distance of around seven hundred meters uphill. Nothing particularly out of the ordinary passed through their conversation.

Shepard was waiting for the telltale sign of an HQ nearby. Patrols never strayed far. She was not going to just take out the patrol, but lead her squad to take out the entire encampment if possible. One less outpost to worry about; an all-around benefit for the galaxy. She would be satisfied, even if they failed her, when every last one of them dropped.

She felt Garrus move away from her and settle next to Valian who clearly felt the strong hands guide hers around the sniper a little more comfortably. Shepard felt a slight twinge of jealousy that he was touching anyone besides her. Valian looked around, confused for a moment, before shaking her head and staring back down the scope.

"Shepard," Valian murmured, "they just said something about a base. I wasn't even thinking about that when we came down here."

"A base huh? They had to come from somewhere. I say we deviate a little from the task. We take out their base."

"Are you insane?" her friend fiercely whispered.

"A little. We can do it. These guys are idiots, and it's people like them go and ruin lives for money," she growled angrily. Garrus was growling as well, her fury becoming his. These were exactly the kind of enemies that he despised for the same reason Shepard did. Valian looked stunned at the force of her command.

"I'm sure a little 'extra-credit' wouldn't hurt," Shepard said without the slightest hint of humor, "Arterius, Jole, take up our position. Valian and I are going to find out where these guys go to hide every night and stop them at the source."

There was silence for a moment.

"Affirmative," Arterius replied before cutting the comm link.

"Pack up your gear and let's go," Shepard commanded. Valian did what she was told and nodded reluctantly.

"Valian, you're a natural-born predator, you are hunting them. I chose you because you are the best sniper and infiltrator on the _Normandy_. This is going to be quick and easy."

Garrus was upon her, slowly stroking his talons along her skin though the armor. Shepard wondered what the hell he was doing touching her like that. Valian leaned into his touch ever so slightly and blinked. She squared off her shoulders and looked more confident in herself. Shepard realized what Garrus had been doing… and while she did not strictly approve, it worked wonders. She smirked a little; he could be damn convincing if he wanted.

Arterius and Jole approached them completely silently and took up their positions, nodding to them.

"I won't tolerate the existence of these scum," Shepard growled. Arterius responded.

"Neither can I. Good luck Shepard."

Jole simply nodded, always reserved and quiet. Shepard and Valian stalked down between the trees closer to the road and followed the mercenaries intently. They were mindful to keep their thermal footprint nonexistent as they pursued their prey. They tacked them back to their "base" which was a grungy-looking, measly camp with a few small tents and one larger one in the center built from more durable-looking materials. They marked that as their target and then made the long journey back to their camp at which they would design a plan of attack.

The Blue Suns were huge, they had to take this outpost down without ever showing signs that they were there in the first place. Justice would be served; the soft mouth plates on her neck reassured her that he was still there for her, approving. She was doing this for Garrus; she wanted to make him proud, to prove herself worthy of him.

Everything for him.


	23. Path of Blood

Sorry for the history lesson. Some things needed to be made clear...

* * *

The next day before the sun rose above the horizon they set out together; removing all traces of their camp.

Their plan was simple but sound: infiltrate the camp, set up a hacking proxy to gather all intel they were storing inside their HQ, set remote charges everywhere, then leave before anyone noticed. The camp would be blown to ash, effectively removing it from existence without alerting anyone. They had already checked to make sure that their plan was sound. They had the total number of occupants, their remote network designations, their schedules and their shifts. The southern side would be completely clear when they entered the camp as the patrol would be north.

There were a total of thirty men inside the camp, which made capture not an option. Thirty hormone-fueled men. If they were captured they would be raped, without question, and Shepard refused to allow herself or her squad mates to fall victim to that kind of treatment.

They made it to the camp and spent a good fifteen minutes confirming their conjectures about the locations of everyone at that time. Their scans showed that no one from the southern entrance to the HQ was around, and that any signs of life were low enough to register as sleep.

Shepard sent Valian and Jole in, their quietest and stealthiest, first. Shepard and Arterius followed close behind, keeping their eyes glued to biometric scanning to check if anyone was even thinking about waking up.

The small HQ had its legs spread open for them enticingly. They got as close as possible and planted their bugs for the data gather. Alarms were cut off, camera feeds were looped back, sensors were disabled. The weak and unsuspecting network was quickly violated by their bugs, which brutally ripped all data on their systems away. They had lists upon lists of contacts, logistics, planning, bank accounts, etc… It seemed that they had stumbled upon a data relay. Nothing too overpowered, but enough to cause a serious dent.

They waited in silence, ears completely open. The Turians constantly scented the air for the telltale signs of waking or proximity of another being. Jole used an advanced biotic technique to detect how close the closest living entities were and track them.

Valian and Jole slunk off together to the north side of the camp to spread the charges around. There were vehicles parked up at the front entrance which required that they go and directly mount charges to destroy them. Arterius kept his senses on overdrive while Shepard monitored as much as she could about her other squad mates. The north side had one three-man team about it somewhere, and Shepard would be damned if her people were spotted before they were.

Shepard heard a click from her visor. Valian had spent a single shot from her heavily modified silenced sidearm. Her kill counter ticked up. Then once more. The Jole's did the same: one well-placed shot, one kill. Three shots three kills, which meant clean and quick headshots. Shepard grinned. She could not have chosen a better squad. Anyone else would have missed those shots and ruined the whole thing.

Arterius jolted and tapped her on the shoulder. He quickly pointed down towards the south exit, at which another three-man squad was now milling about. The pair simply waited for the right moment to strike.

Jole and Valian reported that they were all set and had already exited to the north and into the cover of the tree line. That left Arterius and Shepard in the camp by themselves. Good. Nothing so far had gone awry.

Arterius glanced at his omni-tool, grabbed the small hacking bug off the ground, then nodded to her. They slunk between the smaller housing tents towards the southern exit where their targets were standing.

Shepard signaled that he take the one on the right while she take the two on the left and he nodded, shouldering his massive Turian assault rifle. The innuendo she was well-acquainted with. Shepard knelt and lined up her shot. Arterius was on her left, so the thing pressing against her right was Garrus. She could feel his knee lightly grazing her side and one hand on her shoulder. He inched forward slightly so that their bodies were flush, his arms wrapped under her shoulders to hold her steady.

Shepard pulled the trigger and the man in the middle fell with a bullet through his head. She winced but endured. Arterius nailed his target right in the side of the head with a clean kill. The third man dropped… another perfect shot. Arterius was fast. No, wait. She squinted at the kill counter and the ammo spent. He had one, and Shepard had one. Two shots were taken.

She blinked. It must have been a glitch.

A talon carded through her hair, pulling it aside so that his lips could press against her neck through all the armor she was wearing. Arms withdrew and left her cold.

Shepard and Arterius got up and stalked out of the camp as quickly as possible. Once they had made it to the tree cover and outside of danger-close, they flipped the switch. A glorious blue fireball engulfed the camp and everything within a five-hundred meter radius of it. The low-impact charges decimated the tents and everything in them without leaving too much of a thermal footprint. When they looked back and scanned the area for possible survivors, they found none.

Shepard closed her eyes and bowed her head slightly. Mouth plates grazed against her lips with unrivaled tenderness before vanishing. Shepard opened her eyes and retuned to rendezvous with the other half of her squad mates who had checked in with them that they were secure and waiting.

Mission success. They had made it seem so easy, but the years upon years of training that it required had all come together for this. If her squad mates had been anything but the best, they would have failed faster than they could take their next breath.

* * *

Oh their blissful ignorance was sickeningly heartwarming. The number of lives saved, the number of lives still ruined, was so great it made him angry.

Constant, unrelenting work in Alfa Dexteras found Garrus in a downward spiral. He was different than before: he was more reckless on the battlefield, merciless, unforgiving. His squad stopped trying to talk with him after a while because he would end up snapping at them and then going quiet for hours from the hurt and the guilt that he was treating his squad mates this way.

They were all worried, but there was nothing that they could really do.

But he held on for her. He fought for her. She could not suffer another loss in her life so he hung on to the shreds of his dignity and his personality so that he would be recognizable when they reunited once again.

Their squad became the most decorated Alfa Dexteras squad in history after the second year. They had taken care of more problems than any of their predecessors. But that had certainly not come with its costs. Too many near-death experiences. Too great the trauma from the kind of shit they had to wade through to reach their targets.

He though Terra Nova was bad. But where they left off with their debauched experimentation to create a superior human being another cell had taken them up and continued with their stomach-churning experiments. How anyone could have the capacity to inflict that kind of physical and mental damage upon another was impossible for him to comprehend.

"Breach!" the breach charges went off danger close, but their biotic shielded them from the blast with a powerful barrier. A gaping wound was torn through the wall and shredded any being unfortunate enough to be caught in the storm of metal shards.

A hail of bullets tore apart the remainders.

"Leave some for the rest of us Commander!" Castus piped up.

"A you have three minutes. B split. Mark!" Kryik called out synching up their timers. They had to be as fast as possible. Their target could not escape.

"Moving," chorused the voices as they followed their plans to the second like a perfectly-crafted mechanical masterpiece.

Garrus was with Krios and Reventus as they moved up through a side corridor. Krios chucked a lift that hit a few targets behind some low crates and Garrus finished them without even stopping to take cover. Reventus took off at a sprint. He bounced around the corner so fast that the enemies there had no time to react. Garrus and Krios strode up after him as a lifeless body was thrown into the wall.

"Clear!"

Garrus and Krios stepped up to a sprint and rushed towards the center of the base where their target was located. A large room with plenty of resistance met them and the three slid into cover. Garrus sent a volley of sniper fire down into the back of the room, vaporizing the heads of his targets. Reventus leapt over the low cover and dealt with the quicker enemy CQC units. His omni-blade was out.

Krios was gone. So were his targets. Good.

"A!" he called into his comms.

"Green," came the reply.

A shot pinged against his cover. Garrus barely even thought about aiming and hit the unknown attacker before his mind could fully understand. He moved around his cover once the room was empty. Five minutes later of relative quiet and running they came to their target, who thought that attempting to fight was a good idea. Granted he was in a gunship and flying around like a madman in the hangar bay which was completely locked down.

What an idiot. The hailstorm of fire did little to prevent Garrus from standing and putting a bullet straight through a rocket still in its pod. The craft detonated, showering the area with heat.

Team A had flanked to the exit and worked its way back towards the hangar, clearing a route for a quick exit. They met at the rendezvous and moved towards the exit as a squad. The seven rushed through the base and came to a tight grouping of enemies at the very exit. They were taken down quickly except for one which kept dodging fire and pestering them with biotics. Clearly this was a special unit.

"Reventus!"

"Yes sir!"

Reventus moved in and moved with such speed that even an AI would be impressed. The special unit was thrown across the room, its helmet smashing against the wall where it slumped. They cornered it, ready to finish it off. It looked up at the barrel of Garrus' sniper rifle and pulled its helmet off.

The entire squad gasped and Garrus' mandibles drooped. The human female beneath could not have been older that sixteen or seventeen. Her sad chocolate-brown eyes, rimmed with optical modifications, looked up him, pleading. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, which were covered with thin wires and metal hexes. Circular nodules on her temples bore deep down into her skull sickeningly far. Auburn hair remained untouched as it fell behind her, freed of the helmet.

"Thank you…" she whispered and shut her eyes. As Garrus drew back his sniper it snapped back under her biotics and discharged a round through her skull without his consent. All Garrus could see was the nightmare of his Ada taking her life. The sniper clattered to the floor and he ducked his head, shoulders sagged. Five seconds. Breathe.

They left without another word.

And he swore every time they came to the heart of a powerful terrorist cell, there was at least one young Human experiment who liked exactly like his Ada but horribly modified and mutated and miserable. Ever since that first experience he had periodic nightmares where Ada replaced the poor girl. Irreversible damage to her body and mind that he was unable to cure. She would always end up killing herself in front of him.

The third year they removed two whole Batarian pirate rings. Garrus had been furious when he found records of the attack on the _Starcutter_ amongst one of them and snapped. His predatory side found complete and utter purchase with his body and he slaughtered every Batarian he could get his hands on in the base. He had barely any memory of the rest of that, save for his shocked squad mates and video footage of what he had gone and done.

They had stayed silent around him for weeks afterwards, afraid of what he would do if they did anything out of line. The silence and the reluctance to talk allowed the nightmares to come quickly. Only this time, instead of Ada killing herself, it was he who killed her in his rage.

After a few nights of them he was sent off to see a doctor about his worsening condition and given a few days of rest and recovery with his squad. He was given a sleeping aids and drugs to help him forget.

The fourth year Garrus made massive progress towards recovery as he watched his Ada graduate from Anderson with the highest marks of her entire class and break a record by being accepted into the N3 track of the Alliance military. As of those weeks he could feel her more and more, and some solace came from the feeling of her soft skin on his. If he closed his eyes he would often find her distressed when her presence came to him, but he could always cool her down with a few idle strokes of his talons.

She was the comfort he needed, and it renewed his strength.

Then suddenly, literally overnight, she was gone and he panicked. He could not feel her at his side anymore. He had a crushing feeling that she had finally found that perfect match and moved on. Surely one of those N-track marines was a better fit for her.

He quickly returned to his distress and used the missions as a distraction. His performance was miraculously unaffected and they continued about their business. So many of them fell, but so many more seemed to pop up in their place. The humans had a myth that went something like that.

* * *

Val turned twenty the following month. Oracle could only give her a day with him. He had not forgotten to get her a gift, he simply had no time to do anything about it. He hoped that spending time with her would be enough of a gift, especially when so much was going on. Cruisers were being completed one after another. He had thousands of applications for political figureheads who wanted to be in on the eventual negotiations between the Sicarians and their eventual allies.

The Relay Project requested resource grants which he approved.

"Oracle," Val greeted.

"Yes _Val_," he bit back a cough.

"Why is it that you want to go through the _relay_ in the first place? Our society is already… perfect is it not?"

Oracle fixed his focus on her. She had clearly not looked far enough back in their history, and some of the more obscure points of their society. She had much to learn yet.

"Come with me," he said and she obeyed.

Their residence had a vault that housed family heirlooms and artifacts. One of which was a collection of real, tangible, bound books from thousands and thousands of years prior. Oracle had read through them already, but Val had not. They contained information she might find… intriguing. Information that they kept no public records of. The less people know about what the anthology contained, the less likely they were to get any sudden ideas; the more likely they too were to believe that their little dystopia was perfect.

He pushed access to her holo-tool and allowed her to open the vault. They entered and the lights slowly brightened, still leaving the cavernous room dim. He led her over to where some books were carefully organized by date on their shelf.

Val's eyes widened. She had never seen real books before. In her life. And they were books. Not scrolls or some odd variant.

"You are free to read those. I will warn you now that you will see us differently after you finish going through them. Sicarians do not operate on the same emotional levels as _humans_, _Val_, bear that in mind. I understand you quite well, _Val_, enough to know that you will not like what you learn. From a Sicarian standpoint, most of what is contained in those books is acceptable to us. I have not removed the Superiority Mandate. Now, if you want I can leave you some peace while you read, or I can stay by your side and answer any questions you may have," Oracle coughed. He knew that he was shooting himself in the foot. Val had her _humanity_ still about her, but like Stockholm she thought more and more like a Sicarian. Perhaps it was the reason he had saved the worst for last.

Val could pick up his uneasiness quite plainly. She was treading into "forbidden" territory here. She decided that reading them alone would be best for both of them. If she broke down reading them, for whatever reason, she did not want to scar him by allowing him to witness her distress.

"_I think it's best if I go it alone_," she murmured in her slightly accented English. Oracle nodded, coughed up more blood, and then left the vault. Val sat down at one of the chairs they had in the room with the first large book of ten and began to read.

* * *

Year zero marked the birth date of the first Oracle; the current date was year 9948. She already knew that. She knew most of their history since then. It was what came before that she was interested in. The book was an enormous timeline detailing thousands of events that occurred for thousands of years before Zero. The first book began at year -5000.

What she learned across the collection of history books that she felt noteworthy:

-5000: The first records of civilization begin here. Sicarians began to organize in hierarchies in their respective regions and build permanent encampments.

-2500: Written history begins. Most records are lost due to the Unification War. It is evident that small conflicts between some of the regional tribes resulted in the merging of cultures and Sicarians into more diverse, and more specialized generations. Those that migrated and combined with other groups became stronger groups.

-800: The great industrial revolution hits with the discovery of advanced metal forging. The population rates explode and conflict begins to arise quickly as multiple large groups compete for dominance of resources and advancement of their own kinds. The first Dominance War is fought in -770 and lasts ten years. The planet population lost an estimated two and half million lives to it.

-700: Projectile-based weaponry using nitrate propulsion systems is created in secrecy by the Vir'vael, the most powerful and advanced of the large empires at that point. By -690, they unleash their might upon the other nations. In an effort to quell their expansion, the other nations ally and exterminate the Vir'vael systematically, destroying their history, culture, and all artifacts left behind with them. This is known as the First Purge, which lasted twenty years. One or two relics from the Vir'vael survive under extreme protection. The technology stolen from the Vir'vael started another war over the rights to access it. Including the Vir'vael and the casualties from the war, the planetary population dropped _410 MILLION_. The cultural setbacks from this conflict sent the entire planet into a dark age of stagnation for half a millennium.

At this Val frowned deeply. There had been no wars at any point in time in history anywhere ever that took that many lives. Over a period of twenty years. It was essentially the holocaust but worse; far, far worse.

-200: The first unification war is begun and raged for a century. The planet sectioned into three massive empires and an alliance between the three was eventually reached. The second worldwide industrial revolution was born. Technology sped along quickly and the population surged as the standard of living increased slowly. Four hundred years pass known as the Guilded Ignorance era.

0: The Oracle is born and begins the Cori Era, which has lasted until this year of 8500. The carrier is born to the Eval'lus nation, the largest at that time. Within ten years of his birth electricity harnessed and put to use everywhere.

10: Oracle predicts electric transportation. Oracle predicts the Second Purge. Oracle predicts the fall of the Cori Era which he places on the year 9950.

20: Advent of the electric motor for faster land and sea transportation.

70: Advent of the electric turbo-prop and advanced aerodynamic theory for air transportation. The first computer is engineered. A noticeable spike in conflict begins to appear. The population shoots up as a result of convenient travel. Eval'lus begins to absorb the other two nations: Corval and Ilatus as their culture spreads and takes over. Jingoist insurgent groups begin to rise up. In an effort to perpetuate Eval'lus and protect the people of Corval and Ilatus from these terrorists the Superiority Mandate was instantiated. It was also an effort to better the Sicarian race as a whole. It is still in effect.

The Superiority Mandate is designed to eliminate those Sicarians with undesirable or defective traits, keeping them from passing them down generations. On the first day of its effect, seventy thousand casualties were reported. Its primary guidelines state that if any Sicarian is found to have partaken in, is caught partaking in, or is definitively planning to partake in the future of the following, they and their immediate families are put to death immediately.  
-Any Sicarian caught committing crime of any kind is killed on the spot along with any immediate family.

- If a currently mated male and female from separate families are found together then all are killed, including children, for their respective unfaithfulness and inability to properly bind with their mates.

Val paused there, a little sick to her stomach and lightheaded. Oracle had warned her that she would not come out from this unscathed. She pursued; but it was like eating more and more when already full. Sickening, disgusting. But oddly enough, it was okay with her. How else would they better themselves if they did not take immediate and harsh action?

-If a mated male pursues another single female and they bind, then his current mate is deemed defective for her incompatibility with him, the inability to completely bind him to herself, and killed for the defect. The same applies for a female pursuing an unmated male. If there is a family, the children are killed as well.

-If a single male pursues a mated female, then he is deemed defective and killed. Same applies to the female.

-If a mated male is found with another female and they remain unbound, both are killed along with any children they may have. The same applies to the female.

The list went _on_ and _on_ with these brutal criteria.

Val gaped and stopped reading for a moment to absorb what it was she had just read. These "perfect" beings were worse then, possibly even _now,_ than the Nazis had been _ever_. Apparently they found this systematic and unrelenting genocide totally appropriate. Val did, for whatever reason. The overpowering Sicarian side of her related perfectly. Oracle had said the Superiority Mandate was still in effect.

150: The Superiority Mandate is challenged. The nation of Ilatus is nearly completely wiped out from its effect and revolts. The Second Purge occurs. Within two years all 250 million belonging to Ilatus are wiped out. Corval and Eval'lus expand to fill the space left behind. Some of Ilatus' culture and history is preserved for future generations to look back and learn from their mistakes.

Why was Val still reading all this?

200: Spaceflight is achieved. Eval'lus and Corval race each other to see which can make it to the moon before the other. Tension between the two superpowers is extremely high but their alliance is made well. Their leaders are brothers with a strong bond.

210: Eval'lus lands on the moon days before Coval does. Comms satellites give birth to the internet later that year.

220: The Sunspot Project is funded by the Oracle. The first nuclear weapon utilizing unstable plutonium is detonated by Eval'lus in secrecy. Espionage among the ranks quickly gets the secret to Corval which successfully tests their first plutonium bomb five years later. Both nations develop massive nuclear arsenals.

250: The hydrogen fusion bomb is created by Eval'lus scientists in utter secrecy. They build the device but do not test it fearing that surveillance satellites would pick up the blast.

255: The first hologram is produced. Two years later two-dimensional holograms are everywhere.

300: Dark matter and energy are mastered, infinite energy is discovered and incorporated into everything. Oracle predicts the downfall of society due to self-annihilation sometime within the next hundred years.

301: Light is proven to be the ultimate speed barrier of the universe.

314: The event knows the Reversal occurs. Tensions between the two nations escalated to such a degree that both declared war. The population of the planet was halved from the nuclear holocaust that ensued and the two superpowers crumbled into tinier factions. Radiation poisoning destroyed a lot of habitable land and left the planet in ashes. For the next two and half millennium technology found no purchase and there was no progress while the populace suffered from the effects of the war. Civilization degenerated and many of the technological wonders that had been uncovered were forgotten.

Half of the population. _Half of the population._ Val covered her mouth with her hand. She could not even begin fathom anything so terrible happening to any race and felt extreme sadness for them. The population had been around four and half billion at the time of the war and was cut to two billion in just _days_.

2750: The Rebirth Occurs. Five nations begin to coagulate from the hundreds of smaller ones. Technological secrets are rediscovered from the early years of the Cori Era. Infinite energy and dark matter and energy are the key stone of the recovery. Using advanced systems they scrub their atmosphere clean of radiation to replace with a far healthier mixture of air.

2770: Society finds purchase once again. The Superiority mandate is re-instantiated and forced upon the lesser nations of the planet in an attempt to only allow those worthy Sicarians to proceed. Society takes a few centuries to regain its footing as it is rebuilt from the ground up. Clearing away the remnants takes almost as long as constructing the new cities.

3235: The Great Unification War. Biological weaponry is utilized for the first time by the single strongest and most developed of the nations. Plague is quickly spread by genetically mutated monsters, and lives are claimed in the thousands. The plague is used as leverage for alliance; the other nations beg for the cure in exchange for unity. The tactic is successful and the plague is quickly vanquished. In addition, results of the Superiority Mandate after so many years of effect are such that Sicarians are ready and able to form one super nation under one leadership for convenience.

3300: The rate of technological advancement begins to decay after the tangible three-dimensional holograms are developed.

3310: AI is born. The first one goes rampant and hacks into the power grids of three cities and shuts them down for a few weeks before it is caged.

3320: AI is mastered. The first Sicarian AI is born and grows up with two Sicarians which volunteer to raise the machine like a son.

3325: The first synthetic Sicarian body is produced. A year later the method is perfected. Spaceflight is mastered to the highest degree. QEC is discovered. All of these technologies come together to produce the first Sicarian cruiser, which is actually an orbital assembly hangar.

3326: Medicine is mastered, cures and immunities to sickness are spread around the world quickly using an atmospheric distribution system.

3400: The planetary shield is perfected and constructed over a period of fifty years. It is said to be the ultimate and greatest possible technological feat of recorded history.

3500: It is around this time that the Superiority Mandate becomes redundant. The number of deaths resulting from it is so low that they become negligible. Technological advancement is commonly said to be finished here. The population hits its peak this year and begins to drop off as Sicarian society reaches its Gilded Era of Cori. Scientists and demographers predict that with the technology so advanced and the planet so united and free of problems, cultural stagnation would occur within a few millennia. The population drops from ten billion to down nine billion in the first century from low birthrates.

8500: On this year of publication, the planetary population has begun to level out at three billion. In the past 5000 years since the beginning of stagnation, the Superiority Mandate has only been called into effect ten times.

Val shut the books and stared blankly. She was not supposed to be okay with any of that, but she was. She was a Sicarian, she had gotten used to their extremely strict operational ways and extremely emotional personal lives. Maybe it was genocide… maybe it was simply accelerating natural selection. Their society had been around so much longer than any of theirs had, developed so much faster. But oh Lights had they been through the most brutal and unforgiving history she had ever heard.

She should never have assumed that the path to perfection was a pretty one, nor that their perfection _now_ was even close. They were done; they "won at life." Game over. They were going extinct, slowly but surely, as their entire species lost the motive to continue living. At the rate that things were going, another thousand years and they would be gone. So would their technologies, which could help an ailing galaxy. She saw why Oracle had waited so long; any sooner and she would never have spoken to them again. But with her brain operating upon Sicarian principles thanks to her condition and time, she found all of this oddly acceptable.

* * *

Val stopped talking to him for a few weeks after she had read about their less than ideal society. It had made his condition worse. He had to carry around a portable waste remover into which to periodically cough blood because there was _so_ _much _of it. Still, Oracle kept her company while she slept every time he could.

When she did finally speak she was stricken by her own silence, apologizing for staying quiet for so long. He barely believed her when she said that she understood their rather extreme policies and only wanted the best for their people. Entrance into the galactic community would bring needed cultural influx to the Sicarians and they would change. But it was better than extinction.

How he made it those nine months, nearly another year, was amazing. They had cracked the cryptic codes of the relay and had studied the object extensively to see if they could learn anything from its epic and flawless design. All they were really waiting for was the completion of their fleet and the population of their cruisers with all of the right people.

Oracle had spent those months going over thousands of political applications for diplomats who were to accompany the operational crews of the various cruisers for talks when they activated the relay. He was amassing an army as well, managing logistics with his father and making sure that all of their craft were well-armed and well-prepared for defense. There was going to be a war, as much as he wanted to avoid it there was going to be a war.

His generals had been briefed on how to properly behave once they were inevitably attacked. He hoped with all of his failing heart cords that they would at least be able to establish communications with someone out there before the firing started. The loss of one of their ships was unacceptable. But the destruction of a potential ally was possibly even worse. Hurt from bitterness healed extremely slowly. And from his years spent around Val, he had learned that life was not made from blacks and whites. Unfortunately, that was all Sicarians dealt with; it was everywhere in their society. Mostly when there had been war on Eval'en, huge swaths of people, soldiers and civilians alike were taken by it.

Attack on their fleet would be poorly received, and he may not be fast enough to order them to cease fire. Sicarians only knew how to kill everything, and no less.

Oracle was nervous as well, because despite the amazing speed at which their fleet could travel at FTL, it was almost completely useless. His scientists had confirmed that traveling at maximum capacity unassisted and undirected would guarantee a collision with a cosmic object that would overpower their shields, despite their strength and wreck their ships. They _had_ to use the relay as a guide.

Oracle was on the verge of becoming bedridden. His cough had gotten far worse. He had two months to live.

"Oracle,"

"Imerpator Nostrom," he coughed as he spoke. His father winced and tried to ignore it for the sake of professionalism.

"The fleet is gathered at the relay and ready to enter. We have adequately buffered our defenses. On your word we will jump, Sir."

* * *

"Shepard, Jole, your flawless work taking down that outpost is on the same level as N6, perhaps even greater. The information you obtained from that outpost is currently being put to real use by Black Ops and N7 agents. And as a squad of two Turians and two Humans you have promoted the cooperation of our species. We have reviewed your outstanding performance and I see no reason why you two should be held back by N4 and N5. You are both hereby granted N6. The sooner we get you two into the field full-time, the better for everyone. How does it feel to be record holders?"

Garrus' arms tightened around her, his face nuzzling her neck. She could care less what her CO thought of her, Garrus was proud of her and that was all that mattered. No one seemed to notice that her feet were not touching the ground as he pulled her back to his chest in a tight embrace.

"It is an honor sir."

"You have a month of leave before the next training year is to begin. After that you both will be training with me and our resident Black Ops Commander as a permanent squad. I look forward to it, you both are outstanding soldiers. As are your Turian counterparts. Congratulations."

"Thank you sir," Shepard and Jole both chimed as he left.

"Thank you Shepard," Jole said with usual soft voice. It was hard to believe he was such an efficient and quick-minded killer on the battlefield, "I certainly was not expecting this."

"We work well as a team, the four of us. I was actually expecting to be failed for deviating from the mission objective."

Jole smiled and chuckled softly.

"I have to admit that your audacity is a little overwhelming. Not that I have a problem with it. People like you are a rare find," he smiled and then turned to leave, "whoever he is," he pointed at the talon, "I hope he knows he's damn lucky. I'm looking forward to next year."

"Uh… thanks. Me too. See you later Jole."

"See you,"

* * *

The Blue Suns _were_ a pain in the ass. And a recent lead from a talented infiltration squad had given them enough information to begin sawing away at the mercenary superpower. It was as the Humans said: a hot knife through butter. However, eliminating the Blue Suns was impossible and they were a seemingly necessary evil because they kept the other mercenary superpowers in check automatically. As far as Garrus was concerned, their employment of multiple races was fine with him, but it was some of their questionable operations that needed to be permanently ceased.

Using this information from that obscure outpost unfortunate enough to be in the middle of a data stream, they went and started strategically shutting down Blue Suns ops that directly threatened Council space. He could care less what they went and did outside of "decent" space.

Garrus tried his best to bring his Shepard back but he was unable to do so. It made him irritable, but he bottled it up for the sake of his squad. He refused to break again like he had before.

"Oh spirits," Garrus' head jolted upright at the sound of distress from Levisian from the other room, "Hey! You two! Quit fucking and come here right now. Where the hell are Victus and Krios? Commander you have to see this!" Garrus rose and walked into the other room.

Levisian was sitting in her mate's lap and had her hand pressed against her mandibles in apprehension. Reventus had a shocked expression about him and his arms were tight around Intera's waist. Garrus heard the holoTV blaring as he entered. Castus and Kryik entered, completely naked.

_…For those of you just tuning in we have live footage of what is going on right now. Moments ago an unidentified ship of dreadnaught proportions entered council-protected space through Relay 223._

A massive ship, _massive_, floated in space eating a barrage of fire from an alliance fleet. The dreadnaught was shaped unlike any they had ever seen: sleek organic curves narrowed to sharp points at the front and rear of the craft. The body was separated into an upper curve and a lower curve by a narrow seam running from tip to "tail." Four enormous delta wings sprung from the front. It resembled a shelled aquatic animal.

In the background, one by one, about a dozen smaller cruisers, similar in design, crackled out of FTL behind the largest ship and waited. The offending fleet was absolutely dormant throughout the prolonged salvo. What where the Alliance thinking? But then again, what the hell kind of ship could take all that fire and _survive_?

The camera panned over quickly to catch a glimpse of the Alliance dreadnaught fire off a MAC slug which would tear the shields of any ship. The other dreadnaught however, took the round and its shields appeared to waver intensely. A few plates on the front of the ship parted and a tiny little sliver of something was ejected. A huge arc of energy leapt from the huge ship to the small object and it rocketed _straight through_ the Alliance dreadnaught, which began to eject escape pods.

The camera shook and then cut out.

Garrus' blood froze over and the entire room dropped ten degrees.

_Word from Alliance command has confirmed that martial law is to be enforced upon these aggressors. Relay 223 has been activated illegally by this unknown enemy. Reports say that Alliance ships made many attempts to communicate but the only transmission received was static. After attempting to warn the enemy, they opened fire. Currently the Alliance dreadnaught SSV Kilimanjaro is reported defunct. The Alliance fleet retreated to a more secure location to await additional reinforcements from Council-allied fleets. The council has declared martial law upon these unknown aggressors._


	24. War of Ignorants

School starts so no more updates ever. Or very infrequently. Anyhow, I hope this installment is a satisfactory pausing point.

* * *

The night after they had returned to the _Normandy_, he had been the most tangible. Her bunkmate was taking her N3 qualifier which was probably the most convenient possible thing. Because when she closed her eyes he took her gently and she had ended up making a mess all over the sheets.

After that, he held her close in a final embrace and then left her. Her own mental conjuring left her. Shepard was shaken by it and felt alone all of a sudden. Why? She _needed_ that presence to simply operate. She remembered Oshiro mentioning this exact thing. Shepard had been over-indulging and now she had to pay the price.

She managed to find some of her independence, her strength. She became more and more aware of her own power. Shepard eventually stopped needing Garrus.

Shepard returned to Concordia for the first time in years during her month of leave, hoping that Garrus would be there. She desperately wanted to see him again. She felt empty without him. She felt vulnerable without him. But overall, she felt like a traitor. She had promised this bond to him and had let it go. She hoped desperately that he still felt the same way about her; that his bond to her was still strong.

As long as she could feel the talon around her neck, she would never move on from Garrus. She hoped he knew that.

"Ms.-" Shepard caught herself, "Aevia," she smiled.

"Little Ada!" she exclaimed and wrapped her in a tight embrace. She was welcomed into the house which felt no different than years before when she had left.

"How have you been?"

Shepard quickly found herself wrapped in a conversation about her life during the year as N3. Aevia was shocked that she had passed two entire years' worth of training as a result of her prowess in the field.

"That's my girl," she said with pride. Ada felt a little pang of sadness that her mother was not there to appreciate the accomplishments of her daughter. But she still felt the rush of satisfaction that Aevia felt such pride. Aevia was not exactly the kind of woman who gave out compliments like that.

Eventually she asked her the conversation-ender question.

"What's Garrus been up to?"

Aevia's face fell. Just it always did when she asked a question of the sort.

"Ada… We haven't told you… because we wanted you not to worry, but you _always_ ask."

Oh God.

"But he's gone."

_Oh God_.

"What," she breathed tears threatening to form. Dead? That could not be. She could not have lost him too. And for all this time.

"Oh little one, he's _alive_, I think… just… gone."

Ada was relieved but realized that it was not really any different.

"Why?"

"He and his Black Ops squad were promoted to Alfa Dexteras," Shepard remembered him using the word just before leaving, "which is a special ops branch of the hierarchy much like the Spectres are for the council. They are sworn to complete and utter secrecy. They took my boy away from me… I have to get by hoping that he is still alive."

Aevia keened softly. Ada could no longer meet her gaze and clutched the talon in her hands so tightly that she cut herself.

"Wouldn't they tell you-"

"Until he comes back, if he comes back… He's _gone_, Ada," she snapped, answering her question.

_Gone_.

* * *

Shepard went back to the N track with that same feeling of weakness that she felt doomed to feel the rest of her life. No matter how much she thought about him, tried to conjure him, or attempted fantasy about him, she was unable to fully realize it. She had talked to Oshiro about her problem but he had responded that his Quintus had never left him like that. She may just have to wait until whatever was wrong was passed.

Her performance took a hit when she returned but she was still able to get back on her feet quickly. She eventually came to master herself and stop needing Garrus to guide her. While it was great for her independence, she did not _want_ to stop needing Garrus. She loved that need, because it was the only evidence that she had bound to him.

And no matter how attractive and appealing Jole and Arterius were after a few years devoid of sexual intercourse, the talon around her neck was the constant tangible reminder that he was… waiting for her. As Aevia said, he was gone and there was no way of knowing for how long or if he would ever come back. In every sense of the situation, he was dead. But he was waiting regardless.

Her Garrus was far too good to die on her. He had probably tried as hard as he could to get in touch with her somehow… only, obligations… The N program had not exactly allowed her contact with the outside world during training. Perhaps they were caught in a horrible series of misaligned leaves.

Aevia and Avarus had not talked much about Alfa Dexteras, other than that for Garrus to have the invitation at his age was an extreme honor and source of pride for the family. Only, Alfa Dexteras was considered a separate family; like Garrus was no longer a Vakarian and thus had no motivation to come back. If he was mated, they would never know. If he had children then would never know. If he died they would never know.

All they could do was to wait until his service period terminated.

The year flew by in seconds. Their training under N6 was kept a secret from the others for good reason. Her mind was so removed from everything that she mostly forgot to remember the irrelevant and tedious things. As a squad they grew closer and closer and eventually ended up bunking in the same room. Jole and Valian were getting a little too friendly to be friends.

Their qualifier exam for graduation was cut short, however, by some unexpected news.

_…Word from Alliance command has confirmed that martial law is to be enforced upon these aggressors. Relay 223 has been activated illegally by this unknown enemy. Reports say that Alliance ships made many attempts to communicate but the only transmission received was static. After attempting to warn the enemy, they opened fire. Currently the Alliance dreadnaught SSV Kilimanjaro is reported defunct. The Alliance fleet retreated to a more secure location to await additional reinforcements from Council-allied fleets. The council has declared martial law upon these unknown aggressors._

Shepard felt that they were leaving something out. That information sat improperly with her; just the way everything about it was too convenient for the Alliance made her uneasy. To her it seemed like they had not given these unknown foes enough of a chance to explain themselves.

The sudden shift, the declaration of war, ripped the squad apart so fast she barely had time to say goodbye. Shepard and Jole were called to the Alliance and registered as N7 so that their prowess could put to use as soon as possible in the upcoming fight. They were sent to different ships, both _Normandy-class_ but slightly upgraded, as Commanding Officers and given crews to which they were complete strangers.

In the days it had taken them to reassign, the conflict had already escalated drastically. The rumor going around was that the Alliance had captured a boarding shuttle or two and had sent whatever was in them off to Cerberus for examination.

Ava could smell corruption from light-years away. Whoever was directing operations on the council end was doing little to assuage the tension between the enemy and the council soldiers. It was almost as if they had started a war _on purpose_.

These attackers, whoever they were, played the defensive no matter what. When more shuttles were captured and taken, the enemy took the initiative and hunted them down to get them back. These enemies, according to reports, had landed on the surfaces of multiple planets to break their people out of Cerberus facilities. Only, Council soldiers were there to drive them back.

However, the casualty reports rocketed on the council side. Whatever these attackers were, they were powerful and extremely determined. Unstoppable.

Shepard wondered why the hell no one had attempted communication yet.

Pretty soon after arriving, the small unknown fleet headed with amazing speed for the closest inhabited planet. Concordia.

They had attempted to land there. The day she found out about it she practically broke down in front of her crew members whom she had not even spoken to. There was fighting for literally a couple of minutes before the invading forces retreated and left. Shepard had expected reports of her home city in ruins, but the mortality rate from the battle was practically nothing and everything about the buildings were untouched with the exception of few bullet holes and shattered windows.

She had to scratch her head and wonder who the hell these enemies were and what they hell they were trying to accomplish. The only thing that was clear, was that they were not the perpetuators of the conflict. Shepard could practically taste the corruption at that point, but that did not lighten her view of mystery invaders.

* * *

"_Honoress_ you are cleared to proceed through the relay. Activate when ready," Val spoke with authority to Impertor Virkel, captain of the _Honoress_.

"Yes Honoress. Launch in five."

The massive dreadnaught shuddered and then shifted slightly.

"We have successfully entered FTL!" he cheered. Everyone in the room stood up and cheered as well. It was the first time in history they had broken past the light barrier. A minute later the _Honoress_ shifted again.

"Alright, we have exited from FTL."

"Sir!" one of the Agents at the comms stations called out, "we have contact directly to our front! We are being hailed. Opening the comms!"

Oracle was stiff in his seat. Could it be that for once prophecy was wrong? Val tensed up in the anticipation.

"Give me a feed!" she commanded.

"Yes Honoress," Virkel acknowledged and sent footage from the external cameras to her holotool. Val's breath seized in her throat as she recognized _exactly_ who and what the contacts are.

"It is the _Systems Alliance_, my former people!" she practically cried out in excitement.

"I will push you directly to them once communications are established, Honoress," one of Virkel's Agents announced.

"Thank you Agent."

"Vir'a, have you deciphered their signal yet?"

"Another moment," _Honoress_ replied from her seat next to her mate, "Patching them through."

A very masculine _human_ face appeared on the other end.

_"…nidentified vessel you have violated Galactic Law by activating Relay 223 and possessing an unregistered dreadnaught-class vessel. Either submit yourselves to capture and question or turn back, or we will be forced to open fire. If you do not respond it will be treated as a threat. Respond!"_ his voice was running smoothly through the translator at least.

Val made to respond but was cut off.

_"You are transmitting static, unidentified vessel!"_

"What Darkness…" Oracle muttered under his breath, "Imperator, _Honoress_, what is the dilemma?" _Honoress_ was sitting in a very distressed manner. "I am transmitting the signal back to them as I am receiving it… there should be no reason why they are receiving an unreadable transmission."

Val was thinking quickly. Oracle looked at her expectantly, like she would have the answer to all of their problems.

_"Val-"_ she knew what he was going to ask before he even spoke, gather it from his superconscious.

_"I'm good,_ Oracle, _but the Alliance does not simply go about and hand out transmission protocols._ Imperator!"

"Honoress!" he snapped to attention.

"Have your agents check their encryption and decryption algorithms."

"Yes Honoress," he relayed the order to his Agents, who shut off all layers of encryption on their end so that the signal was left completely raw.

_"We are going to open fire on your craft in ten seconds for you incompliance. Your silence is received as a threat which we cannot allow in council space."_

Virkel put a hand on his mate's shoulder.

"I am trying everything I can, Vir'a, she said calmly with panicked subvocals. The problem _must_ be on their end! I will hack into their systems and force our signals through but it may take hours to properly decode the billions of possible access points."

Val's blood ran cold.

"Do it. In the meantime send out a peaceful envoy. If we cannot communicate by wire then we have to communicate face-to-face," Oracle tried.

"Yes Sir!" Virkel ordered a team consisting of two specially-trained diplomats and a small troupe of armed guards into three mid-sized shuttles. A few moments later they watched as the shuttles streaked towards the largest ship in the Alliance fleet, the dreadnaught _SSV Kilimanjaro._

Without any warning two of the three shuttles were obliterated by heavy fire from the dreadnaught. The most horrifying silence descended upon them. The pilot and his mate in the remaining shuttle were shouting for orders, accepting death in any case.

Then the barrage of fire erupted from every ship in the fleet at barreled towards the _Honoress_. Its shields held perfectly well and would for the next hour or so if they did not act quickly. The energy sinks on the _Honoress_ were slowly filling up to full capacity.

"Proceed… we _must_ reach them!" Virkel ordered back. The remainder sped towards the Dreadnaught and managed to make it inside the ship.

"We have made into their hangar… they do not appear to be friendl-" then their QEC was destroyed.

"Eye cam!" Virkel barked at _Honoress_, who nodded and fetched the data from one of the guards who had been on that shuttle.

_"Stay back sir and ma'am!"_ the guard shouted at the two diplomats, _"don your emergency armor."_ The two diplomats did as they were asked calmly, as if they were not about to die. They clambered around the wrecked cargo bay. The male opened his wings so that his mate had some privacy to change into the armor. She did the same once suited up.

"Agent!" Virkel snapped the guard's attention to the comms.

"Sir, all crew are accounted for. Our shuttle is damaged beyond repair; they shot us with something that overpowered our shields and took down an engine."

"Attempt to communicate with them. Drop or stow your weapons; show them that we are not hostile," Val ordered.

"Yes Honoress," he looked over, "slice open the door!" The guards at the back of the bay sliced quick clean lines through the bay door and the metal chunk clattered to the ground. The Agent with the helmet feed tilted his head towards a female, his mate, and together they entered into the hangar bay of the dreadnaught. A line of _human_ soldiers with rifles and two heavy mechs had encircled the downed shuttle.

"Freeze!" someone called from the line. The two guards did as they were asked and halted.

"Remove your helmets!" The camera angle shifted but stayed focused directly forward providing a wide sweep of the _humans_ watching them. Gasps and cries of terror erupted from the line. There was a stunned pause for a moment before a single shot ripped the air apart. The helmet dropped to the ground and a wet sounding cough erupted. The large sweep of the camera caught the lifeless body of the Agent in to one corner a shot directly through the neck.

A keen from his mate, who sank to her knees next to his body.

"Vir'a! Cor'a! No…" her lenses darkened to obsidian from their once-vivid and beautiful deep blue. She was dead on the inside.

Val and Oracle knew it was far too late for her. The other guards in the bay saw what happened and knew that these_ humans_ were nothing like Val. They were a completely different species altogether. And they deserved to be exterminated. Val gasped in a breath. They had killed that Agent's mate which automatically and legally obligated her to kill each and every one responsible.

She tilted her head back and roared. Like _roared_; jaw split open, mandibles flared wide. The camera's audio feed was blasted out. She watched all of the soldiers in the line falter for a moment. Some dropped their weapons in shock.

"What are you that you conduct such blind ignorance? You threaten us without waiting for a proper response, you shoot down our peaceful envoy shuttles, you _kill my mate_. Hum'ans all of you," she spat the word, "You deserve only death!" her voice was _loud_, and the wonderfully convenient translation software made perfectly sure their attackers understood. The other guards in the shuttle, including the diplomats exited the shuttle brandishing their weapons. The female put on her helmet. The camera was picked up by her hand, and she hurled the object as hard as she could at one of the mechs. The feed cut out.

The Sicarians watching were completely shocked.

"_Val_-" Oracle began.

Val turned around, furious.

"Those are _not my people! Hell I'm not even sure those are Alliance!_" She practically shouted at him making sure that Virkel was listening, "I will kill anyone who groups me with them. I am a Sicarian," her subvocals were angry, practically roaring, "You can kill them I do not care! Expendable each and every one! I should not have expected anything more. _Humanity_ fears and destroys anything it cannot understand!" she shouted as she stormed from the room.

"Tare'an!" she snapped at him on her way out. He bent his head and focused on Oracle for a moment before turning and following her out.

Oracle turned back to face Virkel who appeared quite flustered at Honoress' outburst.

"Take whatever action you please, Imperator; but under no circumstances are you to engage in the offensive."

"Yes Sir."

Oracle blacked out the comms for a moment in an attempt to assuage his headache.

* * *

"Executive officer Kaidan Alenko, ma'am! It is a pleasure to meet you, ma'am" he snapped a salute.

"At ease soldier," she smirked, "and call me Shepard."

"Yes ma'am! Shepard," he caught himself.

"Care you tell me a little about yourself Alenko?" she initiated a light conversation and got to know him a little. Military family, only child, biotic.

"If you need me I'll be in my… office, ma'am. Shepard."

"Thank you for the chat Alenko," she strode off to meet

Shepard grinned at how overkill this all was. And it did not help that Alenko was a handsome young man who was extremely cute when flustered or trying very hard to impress. She liked him well enough; he was by the book which would make working with him predictable. However, it would make her job more difficult Shepard did what she did best: played by her own rulebook. One book to another; he could probably pull that off.

A month of watching the fighting escalate and she was itching to get out into the field and fight for her people. The enemy was certainly powerful and deadly, and they seemed determined to land on any planet that had importance in council space.

Shepard had been given an assignment from Alliance command that directed her to some obscure planet on which there was a base holding a few of these things. They were said to be highly dangerous, almost synthetic levels of awareness and strength; they could not be allowed to escape. The _Normandy SR-2_ sped off towards its destination.

Shepard hated being in the dark. So far she had received no information about who it was they were fighting against, which was surprising considering her position in the Alliance. There was a fight going on according to every news channel everywhere, but there lacked any sufficient evidence to prove it.

And Spirits she should have kept herself in check around Alenko. A horrifying series of mistakes added up one after another. The first being his innocuous question about what she wore around her neck. She lied, of course, and he asked if he could get a closer look at it. He took it off faster than she could process and examined it closely, admiring the sturdiness of it. He did not fasten it around her neck again; instead he placed the object into her hand and she fucking _pocketed_ it. What the fuck was she thinking?

The second mistake was that she was mentally unprepared for his subtle pursuit of her. Shepard knew she was thick looking back at all the time spent not realizing that Garrus was in love with her from his actions alone. Garrus' constant flirting to no real ends made Alenko's real flirting seem fake to her.

The third mistake was letting him in to her life day by day. She enjoyed his quiet company and conversation when she was modifying her weapons, or writing a report, or eating in the mess hall, or eating in her private quarters. He was very good at listening without appearing to judge, exactly like Garrus. He had a sense of humor, which was a start, and he knew when to chuckle at her jokes and when to remain serious when they discussed something serious. Like Garrus.

The fourth mistake was remaining oblivious to the hand that had moved to her side and idly stroked down to the hemline of her shirt and slipped underneath to the skin. The way he was leaning forward, face first towards hers.

"Alenko," she growled, "what are you doing?"

"Shepard… this is what you want isn't it? Someone you can take for granted? You said it yourself…" his lips were _centimeters_ from hers.

Shepard backed away quickly eyes widening. The talon! Where was it? Her hand frantically searched around her chest for it and came up empty.

"No… no no no…" intense guilt coursed through her. She gripped her head and clamped her eyes shut, trying to bring him back. Where was he when she needed him? Oh right, she had just completely betrayed him. _Completely_.

"I'm sorry Kaiden. I already have someone like that in my life. And I'm afraid that you don't even come close to his level," she said quietly.

"My mistake Shepard," he sounded disappointed, "you just seemed so… accepting."

"Get out before I implode," she ground. Her self-hate was threatening to ruin a perfectly unstable friendship.

"Shepard I-"

"I don't want to hate you Alenko. Get. out."

He scurried away quickly. Shepard's body began to consume itself alive. She looked around for the talon like a madwoman and finally found it sitting on her nightstand and fastened it around her neck. The weakness had never fully left her and now, just before they were about to go fight, she was lost for the necessary strength. Perfect.

"Garrus I'm sorry," she sobbed quietly into her pillow, "come back. Please."

* * *

There was a war going on and their squad had not been sent out in a month. The Hierarchy had been reserved about this conflict, trying their hardest to stay out it. They had only been sending out their standard troops.

One of which had been his father. Garrus had practically bitten his talons off when he had found out about his father's involvement in the defense of Concordia, relieved that his mother had been escorted out of the capital city. Everything about that situation had shocked him to no end. He was certain that his home city was going to be destroyed while his parents there; but the attackers had seemed to take extra care to avoid any and all collateral damage, as well mortally wounding any of the defenders. Casualties were extremely high but deaths were extraordinarily low.

And in that month the more Garrus analyzed everything about the conflict he noted that the enemy had yet to act offensively. He supposed the only thing that could really count as an offensive was their taking back of their own kind from holding facilities.

In the more recent days, however, their ships had started to plow through entire fleets of Alliance, Turian, Asari, and Salarian alike to reach the citadel. Reports had rolled in that they were going to try and wipe it out but Garrus called bullshit.

Because when the Primarch told him that now attacking fleet had successfully communicated with their own fleet, Garrus knew there was simply _no way_ that the Alliance fleet should have _ever_ received a static transmission; unless, of course it was an accident or intentional on the part of the Alliance.

The only people who had seen the aggressors face to face were a small ring of people, the Primarch included. He seemed a little… disturbed and confused by whatever it was he had seen. The Turians fleets had been getting hammered by them but fighting back nonetheless and after that call he wanted nothing more than to withdraw from the conflict. The only problem was that the Council was perpetuating this war now, and there was no way to back down as the primary defender race of the Citadel.

The Primarch had talked with them personally at their living quarters.

"Listen, these… attackers are a _new race._"

"What?" they all said at once.

"They entered the galaxy through the relay in their solar system: 223. They are _aliens_. Three days ago The Primarch's Ring made discrete contact with them on peaceful terms. They call themselves… Sicarians. We have brokered an extremely secretive backdoor treaty with them; our fleets are firing at one to ten percent to fake it, and they aren't firing at all; no one is put in danger. They explained their end of the first contact incident; hell they even provided recordings of it. They news stations have been covering up a lot… the dreadnaught _SSV Killimanjaro_ shot down a diplomatic envoy. Listen, after a month they have gotten far more aggressive; something is wrong. They are beginning to wipe out Council fleets and I need to know why."

"Woah woah woah, slow down there brother," Victus said, "new race… are you _serious?_"

"Are you really asking me that Ali? I can't afford humor during a war. About a month ago first contact with a completely new race was made. They broke galactic law by opening a relay… and, taking our example," he said sarcastically, "the Alliance opened fire without taking enough time to make sense of the situation. There were idiots in command back then, indeed on both sides, and there are idiots in command now."

"A new race?" Casus breathed.

The Primarch fixed his gaze upon her and pulled up an image on his holotool and showed them an image take from the communications they had received.

They were like Drell-Turian-Asari aliens; yet completely distinct from anything they had seen before. Luminescent soul-wrenching orbs for eyes, four sweeping mandibles, a jaw split. Scaly skin, fringes, a rhomboid forehead plate. _Wings_.

"Spirits," gasped Levisian as she gaped at the image, "is it just me, or are they extremely hot?"

"It's not just you," Castus replied transfixed. Garrus had to admit that they were very handsome by even Turian standards. The image included a nice, close up shot of a helmetless clearly female Sicarian whose features were amazingly attractive. Lime colored eyes, dark auburn skin, silk looking lips.

Something caught his gaze on one of the screens in the corner, almost out of view of the image. The face looked human. He narrowed his eyes and squinted at the screen. Female, _very_ familiar, short reddish-brown hair, blue eyes. It could not be… Val Shepard? In the most-likely case that it was not, then Garrus was simply concerned that a Human was speaking with them at all. As far as he was concerned, all Humans wanted nothing to do with all Sicarians. Perhaps she was a prisoner, or worse… a pawn.

It came as no surprise that they were sent on an assignment to break into an Alliance facility to gather the Sicarians being held there and bring them to the Primarch for direct communications. From what they gathered, the prisoners being held were diplomats who had high standing amongst the Sicarian fleet.

"Think you can pull that off?"

"Of course Primarch," Garrus was confident.

"You will be receiving fire from both Sicarians and Humans you know that right?"

"We'll manage."

"Good. You ship out as soon as your starship is prepared."

"Thank you Primarch."

"Sprits guide you,"

"And you," the chorused as he left the room.

There was silence for a moment while seven minds thought quickly.

"I can't believe this is really happening," Reventus growled softly, "first contact with yet another race, and there is another damn war. You'd think we'd learn."

"They _did_ break galactic law," Kryik contributed

"They had no choice," Garrus spoke, "and that is no reason to shoot down a peaceful envoy and capture their people without speaking to them. Our actions towards the Humans during first contact were unjustifiable. My guess is the Humans simply want to exterminate these monsters much like we did, because they refused to comply with galactic law, which they knew nothing of at the time. More importantly, because their presence means that everything has to change. Only this is so much different; these… Sicarians… entered the galaxy and miraculously speak our languages. They did not try to colonize our planets and go tearing around activating other illegal relays. They _deserve_ a chance to present themselves formally. That is why I think they are headed towards the citadel… it is like they _know_ it cultivates diversity. And the only way they can stop the fighting is by forcing people to listen."

"Of course."

"We head out in a day," Garrus concluded.

* * *

"Get me transportation to the _Honoress_," Val commanded, "We will head to my home planet of Concordia. We need to speak with people who are not _Systems Alliance_ right now, and my city of birth is home to some important diplomats who may be able to help us."

"Are you sure _Val_?"

"I am sure. We have to take some kind of action. I want to speak with those who will actually listen. I have family friends there who have extreme pull about the Turi'an hierarchy. If I could just speak with them, we would surely make good headway. In addition, at least one or two human ambassadors live there… we could track them down. They will respond well to me, my guise as a Hum'an is enough to fool."

"As you wish Val. Imperator and Overwatch Agent Nostrom will personally provide you with an escort to the planet surface."

Val was taken by a newly minted cruiser to the Honoress which followed her directions through multiple relays to reach Concordia's star system. In the matter of a day. The Honoress, true to its word, descended into atmosphere and cast a shadow over the city.

Clearly the Council did not want them there. They viewed landing on the planet with a platoon of heavily armed Sicarians threatening. Val could see why, but the recent events were clear evidence that she would likely be either killed or captured without some type of protection. Darkness below, even she was carrying a sidearm incase shit went sideways.

Shots pinged off the shuttle's shielding. Heavy weapons fire and anti-air were mostly being directed at the Honoress, which was eating it like desert. The sheer amount of fire they were taking was enough to make her suspicious that any attempt to make peaceful contact was shot.

Her shuttle touched down amidst the circle of other shuttles, which were being used as cover. Imperator Nostrom and Overwatch Agent Nostrom took five strides from the shuttle bay before he crumpled instantly. A shot had made it through the small crack in his armor and ripped through all three of his nervous cortex clusters, effectively shutting his body down. The shot was the worst kind of lucky. Had even one survived, he would have made a full recovery.

Val cried out, but she _felt_ Silis break. It was like a shockwave through the air. She watched Oracle's mother catch a glimpse of something and then promptly shoulder her rifle to fire. She roared when her apparent target was lost. Agents surged from the craft and opened fire in the general direction of the shot, receiving a great brunt of fire themselves. Even Val left the craft, pistol drawn and ready.

Now that they were all outside of the shuttles projectiles began pelting off the shielding. Val just had time to catch the eyes of some unfortunate _human_ buried behind cover and fire a shot, precisely aimed to rip through his shoulder and put him down without killing. As _much_ as she wanted to place the shot between his scared eyes, she held herself back. Val watched the Agents lay down highly accurate fire, incapacitating those attackers who posed an immediate threat.

How was she supposed to tell Oracle that his parents were dead? Val tipped her head forward and keened, her fist clenched.

"Honoress," it was _Honoress_, "I have been monitoring communications and it would appear that the figures you hoped to speak with have been evacuated from the city."

"You are telling me that we arrived here, just so that Oracle's father could be shot and killed and there was no reason for us to be here in the first place?" her subvocals were trembling with fury.

"Honoress, there was no way of knowing beforehand. The only mention I have attained occurred three light years from here."

Val clutched her head.

"I know," she all but whispered, "let us be removed from this Darkness, fall back to the shuttles," she gave a hand signal to the guards who drew back. Silis Nostrom bent down and pressed her lips against her mate's before picking up the body and hauling him back into the craft. She fanned her wings around his form and locked herself there.

"Silis," Val attempted, trilling out compassion with every last shred of her being. The wing that directly divided them retracted its membrane offering a clear line of sight, "I implore you to find your target and remove him or her from existence… Only, make it clean. I do not have to tell you that Tivas would not it to be torture." Dead polished obsidian unblinking eyes were fixed upon her. Val could feel the pain with her superconscious and did her best to absorb it away from her. Silis Nostrom simply nodded before snapping the membrane back out.

* * *

Avarus Vakarian gaped, temporarily stunned. The _last_ thing he wanted to do was take any of their lives. The shot, which he had planned as a warning non-fatal chest-shot had veered severely and slammed right into one of their necks. He instantly dropped. Vakarian took cover immediately on the roof he was stationed upon as the slightly smaller female form next to him aimed straight to him, as if some other force was guiding her shot; there was no delay, no searching. He met her obsidian eyes through the scope and for the first time in many, many years, he felt completely terrified.

He backed away so she would be unable to gather a clear line of sight, but the metaphorical bullet of guilt had found its mark; tearing a hole through his chest. He had taken the life of a loved-one, a mate, an only to that female.

Vakarian could barely even begin contemplate the emotions she was feeling, and it only made his guilt wrack up. It had been far too long since he last fought in a war; but it had been so one dimensional. Most of his work on the field had been before he had found any sort of love, and the lives he had taken were necessary to reach the mutual goal.

Too much perspective from having a mate and a family put him in a bad place.

* * *

Oracle was on his deathbed. The recent news was not helping live any longer either. Coros had just exited the room, leaving behind the wonderful little fact that he would die within the hour.

"Oracle…"

"I already know," he clipped, reading the question from her superconscious. His Agents had informed him of his father's death. Which implied his mother's death shortly. His lung cords contracted all at once and sent a gout of blood into his mouth. He held up the removal device which cleaned everything out.

Val swept forward, pulled him out of his medical bed and crushed herself into his chest, supporting his weight almost entirely. He snapped his bone clutches shut so she would have an easier time. Val had grown so powerful since they first met; but all of her graceful beauty was yet retained. Her head fit snugly beneath his. Oracle felt another cough surging within his heart cords but held onto it as long as possible for her sake, reveling in how wonderful the feeling of how she fit so well against him.

"Let me bear your burdens," she rumbled.

"I have far too many. I do not want to kill you as well."

"_Oracle why are you dying? Please tell me!_" she begged him, tears in her eyes. He would tell her, finally after little over six years of repression. The average Sicarian would have died in two to three years. Oh the lengths he had gone to for her.

"I have nothing more to lose Val, with the exception of you. And now, in my hour of death, I finally feel ready to part from this world with what I have been repressing for six years. I no longer fear the notion of telling you because there is little more I must endure before it is all over," his voice was weak. Val's lenses were dampening his shirt.

"For six years, _Val_, my Fallen Light, _there was_ no point _at which _did I stop loving you with all of my heart."

She froze. That was exactly what Oracle had been afraid of. Oh, well. Not too much longer now.

"_But… but… I'm not… a Sicarian… I can't…_" she was in denial.

"To me it matters not what you are, _Val_."

"_But-_"

Oracle heaved another cough of blood which his disposal device caught before it went splattering into her hair. Some stray flecks landed on her forehead.

"_Do I have to spell it out?_" he chuckled and then coughed some more. Val was completely unresponsive.

"_I, ell, oh, vee, ee-_" Val interrupted his ill-timed humor when she hoisted herself up his chest, nearly pulling him over, and crushed her lips to his. Oh Lights above. The prediction was true alright. He passed off his initial shock and accepted _everything_ for what it was, and not for what it could be mistaken as. Val was telling her that she loved him back with her subvocals because her mouth and tongue were currently quite occupied with his.

Oracle received her passionately. Six years' worth. His system flooded with hyper-stimulants and literally by the second he gained back possession of his faculties, his strength, his life. Stronger together than two apart. His vision swam white for a moment and his senses overloaded. He gathered himself finally to remember everything about this moment.

Val seemed like she was really good at kissing. The way she invited him into her mouth and caressed the tip of his tongue with hers was all too practiced, but he could care less; it was probably just the high of the bond.

He watched every movement on her face. Her eyelids were partially closed but he could see that her irises had brilliant electric blue rings beneath them. So bright where they, that the thin flesh of her eyelids did not fully dim them. Oracle's endorphin glad had quickly swollen to produce as much as possible for her.

Sevist would have field day trying to figure out how many medical and physical barriers he had just completely fucked over in just a few minutes. Soon enough it was his strength holding Val back.

He noticed a tiny sliver of blue slithering up her neck. Her markings were alight for him. He was sure that his were as well, but he was currently too absorbed in her to notice. She had begun to suck the ambrosia from his tongue. Dear Lights he had to clamp his anteriors down to keep everything under control. His jaws had begun to twitch eagerly, splitting open slightly and shutting against her bottom lip.

She was gasping for breath so he let her gather her bearings. She was crying.

_"Tell me that made you get better… You can't just do that and not be better…"_

"Yes," he rumbled, "I am '_better_.' Although I would call it 'complete.'"

* * *

:O


	25. Terrify

I asked my friend about this and the response I got was: "ಠ_ಠ"

"..."

"Alright, go ahead."

In light of my control over their _anatomy, _I've decided to make it OP because I can; just warning you in advance this chapter contains epic anatomy...

* * *

Shepard's team touched down early in the morning and met with the occupants of the base who gave them some preliminary information about what they were expecting. The enemy was alleged to have plans to attack this base in particular as evidenced by their fleet movements. They were extremely reserved about who exactly it was they were holding which put Shepard on the balls of her feet. To any extent, the enemy was interested in assaulting this base for who it was they held and it was up to Shepard's team to direct the other soldiers already there and hold out.

Shepard met up with some of the other platoon leaders to get an idea of who she would be working with in this defense.

There must have been something really important because the Alliance was sinking a lot of resources into this base. Some of her soldiers were piloting heavy mechs and almost half of the actual firepower she was commanding were defense mechs and automated emplacements.

"Contact!" someone shouted and Shepard took a deep breath, "wait, that's a turian shuttle. What the hell do they want?"

Turian?

"Keep an eye on them," someone else responded.

"Well… they just left. Scanners aren't showing anything."

"Bullshit keep your eyes peeled for the Turian troops. If they aren't on scanners they are probably Black Ops. If they show, don't fuck anything up…"

"Alright real contact this time! Twenty kilometers north a cruiser just dropped into atmo."

"Scanners are showing nothing… bro," someone hissed, "quit fucking around."

"You dolt! They don't have optical cloaking. At least, they mostly don't. Their shit is still damn hard to spot. Get ready for inbound forces in a few minutes." The shower of weapons priming and mechs warming up to full capacity filled the air.

"Hey!" a voice shouted, "we have five Turians approaching from the west." Shepard looked in the direction in which they had indicated and could indeed make out five Turians, wearing ominous full black matching armor, bearing an unknown logo on their breastplates. Three were clearly male and two female just from the armor forms alone. She saw two snipers, and the rest were all midrange. Although, the swords strapped to the legs of one indicated a CQC expert.

"Hold your fire, let them in. They're… not Black Ops, but I'm going to speak with them anyway," their operations commander ordered. Shepard turned her focus back towards the ridge to the north at which they expected enemies to appear.

Something crawled over the jutting ridge in the distance and halted. What the fuck? Shepard picked up the sniper scope she carried with her, zoomed all the way in, and took a look at it. There was a humanoid shaped thing up there holding a huge fucking gun and hanging from two massive yet slender armatures. Whatever kind of armor that was, it was horrifying. It looked too alien to be anything belonging to any of the council races.

She practically dropped her scope when another one crawled over the ridge like a spider and halted, perfectly and completely still. So still in fact, that when she blinked and searched the rocks for the other, it was gone. Was she imagining things?

"Jenkins, scan that ridge," she ordered, trying to ignore the sexy Turian baritone wafted over from a few meters behind her.

"Yes ma'am," Jenkins set up a long range scanner and aimed it at the top of the ridge were she knew she had seen something. The scanners, however, picked up no thermal readings, no vital signs, nothing. And the scanner never lied, "any reason in particular ma'am?"

"I thought I saw movement up there. Keep your eyes sharp."

"Yes ma'am!"

In the corner of her eye she saw the tallest Turian of the five lock his gaze with hers through both of their visors. He stalked over, his gait remarkably similar to Garrus'. She felt the talon practically lift through her chest plate.

* * *

Garrus' plan was a little unsettling, even with him. The Alliance troops guarding the base were not expecting to see Turian units arrive but he knew that they would not fire on them either. So technically, he would send Krios and Castus off into the base through the rear while he distracted communications up front with false information and arbitrary inquiry. He would convince them that the five of them were the only ones there while the others infiltrated.

It was dirty, but then again the Alliance had not exactly been playing clean as of late. This base belonged to a questionable subset of the Alliance known currently as "Heart of Earth," which translated roughly to "terrorist organization." It was under Garrus' and his squad mates' best assumption that the Sicarian prisoners were subjected to more than just capture. Therefore, he ordered Krios and Castus to record the entire mission from their helmet cams. When then inevitably came across atrocity, they would have it on film from two perspectives.

They saw a large coalition of troops amassing for the imminent defense that was going to go poorly for them. Garrus had seen highly confidential footage of the way Sicarians fought. Turians were often considered to the "predators" of the galaxy, but Sicarians put that title to shame. There would be no "defense."

The got down planet-side quickly, the five were dropped far from where the two were dropped. Garrus and his team made their way towards the crowd that was to the northern side of the base while the infiltration team moved in from the south, where defenses barely even existed. After a few minutes of walking briskly they arrived at the clearing covered in concrete and alloy barriers for cover, mechs, and Human soldiers.

"Hold your fire, let them in. They're… not Black Ops, but I'm going to speak with them anyway," a voice commanded. Garrus quickly located the operations commander as the one cocky bastard standing around not wearing a helmet with the threat of snipers.

He sent Kryik up to communicate. He did better with the distractions and tacti-cool speech then any of them. Garrus also needed to monitor Krios' and Castus' progress closely to make sure that they were making proper headway. He sent them a stealth ping and quickly received one in response from Krios who confirmed that he was moving around inside the base. Castus replied a moment later with the green light.

Kyrik kept up the bullshit for quite a while before Garrus heard an all too familiar voice that struck his nerves and warmed his heart.

"Jenkins, scan that ridge," Garrus' head snapped up and looked in the direction he had heard her. Surely his Ada could not be here.

This "Jenkins" replied.

"I thought I saw movement up there. Keep your eyes sharp."

Garrus knew it was his Ada. He could feel their eyes tether through their helmets like they were not even there. He turned and walked over to where Ada was kneeling. Garrus took off his helmet when he was within two strides of her.

"Oh God and Spirits," he heard her gasp as she removed hers, "Garrus!" she was so shocked that her limbs would not move her to him. Garrus stepped right into her personal space and made to kiss her passionately but froze when his face was inches from hers, his mandibles slack, and his jaw hanging open slightly. He could smell another Human on her. She really had moved on. Every fear came true in that moment.

"Garrus?" she asked, confused as to why they were not making out in front of everyone. He backed away from her, the same shocked expression on his face, silence erupting from his vocal chords.

A pinprick of light flashed on the ridge. In instant later Garrus entire form twisted around a full rotation and half, showering blood in a spiraling arc as he spun. He landed face down in the dirt.

"Sniper!" someone shouted and the entire camp was sent into chaos as enemy shuttles erupted from over the ridge a few kilometers away. Shepard screamed and rushed to Garrus' side, flipping him over. Ada searched for the wound. Chest, no. Head, no. Waist and legs, no. Arms… his left arm was lying in the dirt about a meter away from him. It twitched once slightly. Ada turned and vomited into the dirt.

She was practically broken from the previous night. Watching the only one that gave her reason to live get his arm scooped off at the socket was the most awful, mind-numbing thing she had ever witnessed. She grabbed an entire tube of medigel from her waist and dumped it on the torn and ravaged stump where his shoulder used to be. His undersuit and medigel distribution systems had already stymied some of the blood flow but he was still losing blood fast. His vitals slowly ticked down to death.

They had not just met so that he could be shot and killed. Her Garrus was invincible. Garrus' squad mates had noticed and were sprinting over to his form, which was currently cradled in Ada's arms, coating her hands and armor with blood.

"Garrus, I love you, don't die on me-"

He bent his head towards hers and in his last conscious threads he manages to say the most soul-crushing, heart-wrenching, traumatizing thing she had_ ever_ heard in her life.

"_Clearly if the arms of another were so inviting  
Then my love_ _for you, brighter than the sun,_  
My very essence of being_ was inadequate,  
And I am only worthy of death._"

"What? Garrus I never-" tears where already streaming down her face. Fire started to erupt around them from the attacking forces.

His body went limp in her hands and his vitals cut out.

"Garrus… Garrus! I…" she trailed off a frigid and lifeless breath oozed out of her lungs like molasses.

His squad mates reached his side and said nothing as the pried him away from her and rushed him off. They forgot his arm, in the center of a pool of blood, which Shepard stared at blankly as the soldiers around her began to drop and fall back. The order was quickly given to retreat as they were being overpowered. Shepard could not stop staring at it as she got up and walked to the evac shuttle as the base was quickly overrun. Shepard continued to stare blankly long after she had arrived back on the Normandy, trapped in an infinite loop of watching her light die out in front of her face.

Over and over.

"It's all your fault, Ada," she heard his presence whisper before it left her alone.

When she felt for the talon it had disappeared.

* * *

"Who the hell was that?" Reventus growled.

"That was Ada Shepard, his mate," Victus snapped. He quickly silenced himself before he stabbed himself in the foot any harder. Victus turned back to their commander who was lying in the medbay, one arm completely ripped from him. His vital signs had returned, but they were so weak that he was hanging by a thin threat to life. He was in a coma, but at least he was alive.

Their mission had been successful, with only two casualties…

There were five prisoners alive that they had freed. Only, one had decided to stay behind and destroy everyone responsible for what had been done to his mate. Hell, Victus would have done the same if that had been Krios. Or any one of her squad mates. They had solid evidence that this "Heart of Earth" varrenshit were inhumane fucks who got their pleasure from torturing non-humans.

"Excuse me, ma'am, If I may," one of the four Sicarians they had rescued had entered the room with his mate and was standing silently by the door. Victus spun around at the sudden breach of silence by the voice that could make anyone's knees weak with arousal. Had she not been bonded to Krios her dignity may or may not have remained intact. She nodded, trusting that they were not going to kill the commander or eat him or something.

The tall and trimmed figures made their way over to their commander's barely-alive naked form. The male nodded to the female and then their omni-tools flared to life. They all gasped at the display, which was far more advanced that anything they had access to. The two examined the body for a few moments, passing their scanners over the torn and ravaged left shoulder socket, then the chest and the head. They shot each other some subvocal expressions that did not translate.

"We will build him a new one… but we will need medical charts of your kind and access to resources if possible. It is the least we can do in thanks for removing us from that horrible place."

"A new one… what?" Victus asked.

"A new arm."

"You are joking," she drawled. The technology for that did not exist yet and would not for the next decade at the rate technology was moving. The male raised a brow ridge at her and his amazing luminescent magenta eyes flashed brighter a few times.

"Absolutely not."

"Then by all means," she affirmed. The turian medic standing off to one side watching the exchange and silently checking monitors moved over to the pair of aliens and held out an arm so that his omni-tool was facing up. The Sicarian female looked at it for a moment before holding one of those really odd, alien, two-thumbed hands over it and retrieving the data offered.

"Our thanks," she purred. The doctor's mandibles fluttered.

"If you pull this off… then you will have ours as well."

* * *

Oracle and Val felt Coros approaching but did not disconnect. Coros would already know by the time he reached the door that something was obscenely different. He would probably smell it first.

A knock sounded on the door.

"Are you two quite finished yet?" Coros sounded happier than Oracle had ever heard him.

"Of course," Oracle responded releasing his grasp on Val and allowing her feet to touch the ground again. Coros entered the room furiously writing on his holotool. He came over and scanned both of them then nodded his head.

"Oracle I am so sorry about…"

"You are spoiling the moment Coros," Oracle returned.

"I apologize. Once you two have… attended to business, I have to run many, many scans on you Oracle."

"Thank you Coros. Val, would you accompany me out?"

"I will accompany you wherever you go."

"Not so fast Oracle. I would like to hold a private conversation with you please."

"Certainly," the two stepped aside. Val quickly found herself face-to-face with Coros' mate who pulled her aside.

"Honoress," she began, "how much do you know about Sicarian sexual anatomy and practices?" Well that was… blunt. She flushed with embarrassment, subvocals warbling her answer for her. Nothing. Coros' mate trilled out a little surprise, as if Val was supposed to know about how they had sex. After six years amongst them that was actually a quite reasonable expectation.

"Alright. Well from what we know about your… former species there are enough similarities between ours that you should find the experience quite enjoyable."

Val's eyes widened a little. This was really happening; the sex talk. Only it was worse coming from a doctor because they were absolutely delicate with nothing relating to it. She prepared herself for a grizzly conversation.

"Once disrobed, the male and female will display their sub dermal bioluminescent markings to one another as a sign of connection; a kind of dance, if you will. The male will display his abdomen to the female as a sign of intense trust. And as a side note; males have thrice as many nerve clusters underneath their anteriors. At this point neither is backing down so she will step flush with her mate. He will close his anteriors around her and they will stay there for a while, acclimating and memorizing the way the other feels. Then they engage in sexual intercourse."

Val nearly chocked at how sudden the shift from tenderness to blatantly clinical was. She activated her holotool and displayed something phallic, covered in hundreds of tiny little rhomboid interlocking plates. There was no way what she was looking at was actually the-

"This is a diagram of the male sexual organ," she explained completely unfazed. Val on other hand… "I am sure you are familiar with most of the basic principles of intercourse, but seeing as your… former species' males lack the same number of sexual components and proportions as ours, there are some things you should know."

Val gulped down a breath. Why did she have to speak about it? Val could easily just read about it and that would be that. But no. She tapped a few icons and the plating pulled back revealing an equally mouthwatering-

"As you may or may not already know, the female sexual organ is completely internally, guarded by a series of plates that open when the female is aroused to allow for penetration. The female is the be-all end-all when it comes to intercourse, so be delicate with him. I do not know what the sexual practices of humans include, but the male will often use his tongue to help arouse the female, as will the female. Both will secrete a natural lubricant about their sexual organs as well as the area directly around it. The male then enters his mate without the outer layer until he reaches the cervix," Val winced; that would not be pleasant. The Doctor noticed. "Do not worry, Sicarian females are similarly reactive in that area; pain is to be expected during entry," everything was too overwhelming clinical for her, "Once the female has adjusted, the plating sheath emerges and flares."

Coros' mate tapped an icon which played a horrifyingly graphic animation of the sheath sliding forwards along the phallus, flaring the rather sizeable plates all at once. Val did her best to keep thoughts of that entering her at bay while she received this positively educational information about how Sicarians were apparently gods of sex. The Turians would not be happy.

"The sheath is free to move and is almost purely for the pleasure of the mate," she continued, "as her clitorises are internal rather than external. Once the male reaches his peak which may take an hour or two," Val gulped, "If the two are mating to bond, the lack of impregnation hormones from the female stops the male from releasing sperm. Instead, he ejaculates a salve that helps the sore areas to heal quickly so they can try again quickly if needed. If the two are trying for a child, he injects a chemical that dilates the cervix and then enters the womb in which he ejaculates. The first ring or so of the plated sheath well enter and lock them together, ensuring insemination. The lock remains for half an hour and the shortest and up to two hours at the longest."

"Does that-" Val cleared her throat which had gone completely dry, wishing that she could un-hear most of what she had just been told, "Does that hurt?"

"Quite the contrary in fact. Females tend to black out from a pleasure overload during their first encounter in which they choose impregnation. The dilator is laced with a pleasure stimulant."

Val stared blankly.

"Oracle is a virgin, as are you I suppose; his plating will have thin membrane around it that must be broken. Do not worry if he bleeds on you or in you; there will be no reaction."

Coros' mate stared at her expectantly. Her mandibles flared a little in a smirk.

"You will enjoy it. A lot. So much that you will want no one but him. It is all part of the biological incentive system bred into Sicarian-kind through tens of thousands of years of evolution."

"It would seem that I chose a good race to crash into," Val said offhandedly.

"Indeed. And Honoress… Val," she grasped a shoulder, "I feel obligated to say that most of the Sicarians I know no longer think of their Honoress as a human; but a Sicarian proper. I do as well. From the moment we began to note your changes it was apparent that you were only trapped inside a different form. Do not let this war get in the way of your relationship with Oracle; enjoy yourselves while you still have time. As we have seen, it affects us all whether we know it yet or not."

"Thank you Doctor."

"Of course. Now, I presume you have some business to see to completion."

She left Val standing there with her anticipations. She would not be able to look Oracle in the eye after that discussion because she would just see flashbacks of that one dream out of so many she wished never to repeat. Although, now she could probably care less.

Oracle looked equally flustered as Val approached him. He led her out of the medical building and had Tare'an take them to the middle of nowhere and drop them off. They were standing on a ledge overlooking the vast expanse of the of the city and Nostrom residence below. The tip of the monument rose to about their height, which meant that they were way up. Val took a look over the edge and her breath seized. The drop was straight down; perhaps a couple hundred meters.

Oracle approached her carefully and delicately wrapped his arms around her. Surely they were not going to mate upon the ledge? She heard him rumble a chuckled and realized that she had dumped the question right into her superconscious which he had easily picked up upon.

"_Not here, no,_" his lips quivered on the back of her neck. She never imagined that the jaw split, which seemed so predatory and disgusting at first, could become such a pleasurable and attractive thing.

"_Val the moment I opened that door on years ago, I loved you. I know you know that we love like a light switch, but I would say it was like a supernova, if you will. And I was frustrated. As the Oracle, I was destined to remain alone; and then the first contact with extraterrestrial life proved destiny wrong. How did we both go on for such a time without realizing?_"

Val was trembling. Besides the fact that it was almost freezing where they stood, Oracle was just so… suddenly good at making her knees go weak. The constant breath on her neck was a strange sensation; he never had to take an inhale through the mouth which allowed him to blow gently and indefinitely, bathing her in his marking scent and his warmth.

The contact was so strange yet so comforting. When she crash-landed she had thoroughly pushed the thought of intimate contact with anyone for the rest of her life out of her head. But partaking in it with the one being she would gladly spend the rest of her life with was an odd relieving yet exciting sensation all at the same time.

His arms snaked around her waist and torso and held her fast to him. His radials unfolded to wrap around her completely and the membrane expanded, forming to her figure and compressing them closer yet. Her feet left the ground.

"Lights above, I love you," his subvocals and superconscious were on fire with the flood of emotion that he felt, "let us soar."

His grip tightened just slightly and he took two bounds from the ledge and dove from the great height. Had his sonos and superconscious not been so relaxing Val would have lost her shit. She was presented with a wonderful view of the vertical rock face rushing downwards as they fell. Upside down.

Their downward momentum was converted into forward flight as Oracle fanned his much larger than average, almost feminine wings and flew them. Having a Birdseye view of such an expansive and breathtaking vista was only intensified by the trust and intimacy that flying together required. Val wished she had wings because it was customary of the female to provide her end of the lift with her own set. But Oracle seemed to have no problems on his own.

She nearly panicked when his arms shifted around on her slightly but he kept her wrapped without a problem.

Every time he flexed his enormous wings she could feel it through his clothing. Such power and grace contained a simple movement. They flew for a long time, Val counted an hour. Oracle had taken them up and over the mountain and then swept down towards the entrance to a cavern adorned with some kinds of markings and alloy structures.

In a perfectly executed arc Oracle landed, using his wing armatures as buffers for a soft landing. He set her down and she teetered a little, but he held onto her. They walked into the cavern which was completely absent of all light, the glow from Oracle's eyes lost into the blackness. He approached a wall and pressed gently, the large door swung open for them. Val had superior eyesight but it was nothing like the Sicarian suite of distance and surface detection sensors they had in their heads. She could hear running water somewhere to the right of her.

The sound intensified as Val was led over to flat spot in the expansive void of the cavern. Amber Orbs appeared above. Hands snapped the fasteners on her clothing deftly and her outer layer fell away, leaving her in her underwear. Her heart rate quickened and her breathing became a little more ragged. All of those things she had been so kindly informed upon were coming back to her.

Oracle's two-thumbed hand ghosted across the alloy implants; the catalysts in her transformation. She could feel his entire being seize up when he caught a glimpse of her markings responding to his touch. Val was not aroused enough quite yet to present him with the full display, but she had a feeling he would be impressed. She was perhaps another six months from a full set; those markings on her arms had yet to fully develop. Everywhere else…

Val returned the favor and stripped off his formal wear. She did not need the light to know where the clasps would be in space. She started with the sleeves and took her time running her hands over his skin; the first time she had ever touched him in her life. His sonos began to vibrate the air around them and the volume of air he was taking in increased. The beautiful amber markings beneath the grey translucent scales reacted according to her fingers.

She began to combine the feel of his skin with her conception of him in her mind. He was doing the same, his fingers were amazingly soft on her skin.

They paused when they were both in their underwear so they could kiss. She was living a dream, only she could tell now that everything was real. Their markings began to flare when their lips met. Oracle watched her closely as their tongues tangled. He watched each strip appear slowly down her neck along with his. He groaned in pleasure when Val moved her head to one side and experimented by sucking on a mandible.

At that rate she would barely have to touch him and he would be ready to take her; to mate with her. Their superconscious had found one another and where communicating; his markings were indicating such a connection as they flared under her hand and her mind.

He removed the final layer and his breathing cords slammed shut then open all at once, his own markings flaring when he noted her naked and fully luminescent form.

"Oh… my…" was all he managed before he had torn his under layer completely off with his anteriors and fanned out his membranes, beckoning her to his warm and vulnerable abdomen. The light from his membranes illuminated her form and her markings burned hotter for him. His whole body kept him locked there, waiting for her to initiate. She looked up at him with glowing rings in her irises.

"You are true beauty; purest in its form, its sapient definition…" he could not stop himself from expressing it verbally even though he had already communicated such a statement with her. Val hummed a chuckle.

"Why Oracle, I had no idea you were such a romantic."

"Sicarians get like that around their mates. And I mean it _Val_; I am overwhelmed that are you mine," he kissed her again, stroking down her back with his set of anteriors. Her waist ground slowly past his as he pulled her. His hands were roaming around, committing her body to his memory. Oracle began to smell her arousal and knew it was the right moment to satiate his mate.

His scales had begun to slicken and his plates to loosen. However, he had to be sure that she was ready for him. Sevist had been blunt with the details anatomy but there was a lot he felt that he was holding back for whatever reason. Oracle allowed his tongue to drop down to her breasts and he lowered his head slightly.

The only thought going through Val's head at that point was forty-seven centimeters as the tip of the prehensile member trailed down her neck to the valley between her breasts. Oracle had barely moved his head, only shifting his jaw to allow the tongue to pass between it. The tip of his tongue gingerly grazed one nipple. Val held her breath as she could feel the talons there just graze the areola but remain retracted. He continued to lower his head and more of his tongue coiled around her. Her subvocals were purring with unrivaled intensity; her markings illuminated his expression of pure bliss.

He shifted them quickly but smoothly to a different position, sliding her upwards against his body so that his lips were upon her abdomen. The armatures on his chest were wrapped tightly around her waist; those at his hips were grasping her calves. That tongue, with a mind of its own, slithered down her stomach and towards her core. Oracle was holding it back, but it wanted her.

It reached the juncture of her thighs and paused. The tip settled lightly and tantalizingly above her clitoris and applied a slight pressure. Val gasped when the fangs on the tip parted her skin easily and injected liquid pleasure dangerously close to the small bundle of nerves. The "landing light" markings, as she thought of those around her center, intensified and practically stun under the skin.

Val bucked when the tip finally made sweet contact. The lengthy member slid its fill distance across her entrance without stopping, then retracted completely back into his mouth. Her back arched and her hips twitched. She released a long and lusty keen on her subvocals. She was ready.

Oracle pulled her back down and gripped her with every available armature excluding his primary wings, which were being used to stabilize them; their brilliant orange light washed over her skin and his glistening scales. She saw raw arousal where anyone else would have seen a horrifying monster.

His pelvals wrapped around her legs and pried slightly at her entrance, she sighed in anticipation, goading and reassuring with her subvocals that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

"Oracle-"

"You knew my birth name from the start, Cor'a, you said in a dream. I knew it was a sign… of us. On this day of the year 9949, will you, _Val Shepard_, accept my fate to bind with you; to become the second part of your being?"

Val thought for a moment before her eyes widened in surprise as she realized that he was right. She had known his birth name from the very first few days.

"As fate binds us, I become the second part of your being… Ilus Nostrom."

Ilus! He reflected back to her with his superconscious. Suddenly he was no longer Oracle. His individuality was restored.

"Here concludes the Cori Era. Let the Val Era commence," he purred. He used his pelvals to guide his yet unsheathed phallus into her slowly, without moving his hips away from hers, allowing her to adjust properly as he inched forward. Unsheathed he was very large. Very, very large and very textured. And it was painful still, even with the layers of lubrication on all surfaces. The light gave her a nice view of the muscles that were pushing up the skin on his hips as he entered her. Val returned her attention to her mate's visage. The both shared a groan across their subvocals. The serum Ilus had injected into her was beginning to have an effect, like a warming sensation spreading across her waist.

Their markings down there were flaring and jolting with each minute movement. Val squirmed under the grasp of his arms and armatures which were holding her completely still while he agonizingly slowly extended into her.

Val jolted a little when he finally reached her cervix and pain shot through her from the center. They waited there for her to continue to adjust to his size and length as well as the emotions and connections coursing through their bloodstreams.

Neither thought it would it would ever come to that, but they had both hoped with every fiber of their construction that it would.

Val was already so close to the edge that just one movement would free her. She held on, wanting to keep her endurance up for as long as possible. She remembered from the conversation with Coros' mate earlier that sexual intercourse could go on for quite a while. Ilus twitched, a quick backwards then forwards jolt into her limit again. Val grimaced at the pain. Ilus was trying his best to soothe and apologize to her for the unpleasantness he was causing. She was, perhaps, dreading the moment when his plated sheath decided to enter her. He was already large enough without it and she was still quite a virgin and still quite snug around him.

Val had her focus on his face and also on the junction where they were fused together. Her fingers were idly caressing the wonderfully soft skin of his torso. She felt a different set of muscles contract and knew what was coming. Ilus tucked a strand of hair behind her head and allowed his other hand to press lightly against her core and massage slowly. He purred out relaxingly in an effort to keep her anxieties from making the sheathing process any more painful than it needed to. He finally began to flex the muscles that controlled his sheath once he felt her slightly relax.

Val did little to stop the moan of so many different sensations that she felt when the plating on the sheath snapped by her clitoris one right after another, and deep into her vagina. He held her tightly and pushed slowly. His expression was not exactly one of perfect contentedness. Like her, the tearing of the thin membrane around his sheath was painful for him as it was for her. She chanced a look and could barely tear her eyes away from the sight of the diamond shaped plates slip into ring by ring.

When he finally sheathed himself fully, Val was feeling as if she would tear in half if he moved. Ilus' tongue was on her neck, gently. It trembled a little as the fangs slipped into her veins and injected more of his love potion.

He returned to kissing her which distracted her from the painfulness for a moment.

His sheath flared in a wave, slowly, from tip to base. Val's mouth opened in shock at the sensation but no sound came out. It was like a hundred rounded finger nails tickling and fondling her inner walls at once. For an instant, the pain converted into pleasure and back. Ilus sensed it and took his time to flare each interlocked ring out down to the base of his penis and then back up. Val whimpered. It would only take one more and she would climax; she was already close enough.

Without moving his hips, Ilus flared every little plate at once and retracted the sheath backwards. It was too much pleasure at once for her and she came. Ilus purred gutturally as he had no choice but to climax with her. She was flooded with a slightly more viscous liquid to such an extent that it began to seep down her legs. The area around them was lit as their markings singed through their skins to their brightest. Their lips were crushed together again, his hands were caressing her face and breasts.

They were far from done, however. Without thrusting his hips, Ilus continued to slide the sheath back and forth slowly and shallowly, flared to its fullest, which practically ripped her walls to shreds with the odd mixture of pleasure and pain. Each slow movement passed a plate over her clitoris; she was never want some kind of stimulation which left her hands free to grasp at any surface of his she could.

Ilus was finally able to increase his movement speed without thrusting. There was simply too much contact everywhere, his ambrosia worked its magic and she fell apart around him once more, clenching and trembling uncontrollably. Ilus flooded more of the salve into her and picked up the pace, beginning to shift his hips against hers in time with each movement of the sheath.

After finally adjusting to everything about the overwhelming sensations Val was able to give some of her own energy back and provide him with the pleasure he deserved. She was able to communicate a position chance through their superconscious without slowing their pace. Ilus angled their bodies to an upright position rather than a horizontal one; she wrapped her legs around his waist, and began to return his movements.

The double action of the thrust that completely filled her and the plated sheath that slammed in afterwards had her delirious. Each stroke seemed like the last before her climax but she resisted. Finally, when she could take it no longer she caved in and allowed her senses to white out.

She woke up covered in warmth, floating almost. Her hand found Ilus' face without her needed to think about it or comprehend her situation, and stroked a cheek plate.

"Ilus-" she whispered before he leaned down and covered her lips with his. She realized that she was floating in warm water, held from sinking by Ilus' anteriors. He was tenderly rubbing warm water over her, cleansing her skin.

"My Archlight."


	26. Buried

Alright...

* * *

Dr. Chakwas glared at her Commanding officer. She had no idea what it was had happened on the planet's surface, but clearly it was disturbing. Shepard was currently is a pseudo-coma; outside stimuli seemed to do nothing. Her pupils would not contract under lighting. Her vitals were deteriorating.

"Shepard," she finally tried, "Commander!"

Chakwas, being one of the best in her field, tried the one thing that she had left in her arsenal of tests. With expert precision and form, she raised her hand and slapped her commander as hard as she could across the face. Shepard finally seemed to snap out of it and stared at her as if nothing happened. Then her hand went up to figure out why her skin was stinging.

"Where the hell am I?" Shepard bit out. Chakwas already did not like her tone. Shepard had always been a paragon of liveliness and optimism, even when she could tell there was a lot she bottled up within her for the sake of her crew. She had seen her hit it off with XO Alenko and was genuinely concerned for their apparent relationship. They were both extremely gifted soldiers and she deserved some kind of happiness in her life.

"You are in the _Normandy SR-2_ medbay."

Shepard growled. "Why?"

"What do you mean why? You were clearly shell-shocked on the shuttle ride back. XO Alenko kindly brought you back because you were not responding to anything anyone was saying."

Shepard looked furious to be there.

"What happened down there commander?"

Shepard's hand immediately went to her chest where a little tooth-like charm hung. Her shoulders sagged and her head drooped.

"Tell me Doctor," she begun without emotion, "Have you ever lost someone close to you?"

"My husband," she reflected, "but we were never really _that_ close and he was always away fighting. The First Contact Conflict took him. But I hold no resentment towards the Turians; how could they have known?"

"I lost my will to live down there today Doctor," Shepard held up the charm, "My family died and he gave back my light," she shook the charm, the clenched it so hard that her hand began to bleed, "he gave me back everything, Doctor, and now he's _dead_ because _I betrayed him_. So tell me," she was on the edge of her sanity. Chakwas had dealt with shellshock before but this was pretty bad, "have you ever lost your mind? Have you ever felt so emotionless that you willingly accept death? I have before and I certainly do now."

Chakwas thought that was strange'; Alenko was fine.

"That sounds like a loaded question, Commander," Chakwas said calmly, "and no I haven't."

Shepard nodded slowly before slipping off of the medical bed.

"I will prescribe-" Chakwas was cut off when Shepard whirled around and pointed accusingly at her.

"You will do no such thing. You are giving medicine to a corpse. I refuse to let you waste the _Normandy's_ medical supplies where they aren't due!"

"And as the ship's doctor I have the ultimate-" Chakwas stepped forward and Shepard shoved her back. The Doctor was completely taken aback by Shepard's behavior.

"Don't make me tell you twice," Shepard growled before stalking out of the medical bay.

Chakwas frowned just as Alenko walked in.

"How is she?"

"She's," Chakwas chose her next words carefully, "disturbed."

"That can't be good, especially when your expression is like that," he gestured at her scowl, "Has she recovered?"

"I don't think she ever will. You may want to try and talk to her about what happened, get her to release some of the tensions she's bottled up."

"I don't think that Shepard would want to talk to me," Alenko muttered.

"And why is that? I thought you two were-"

"She's already in a relationship. She kind of… freaked out when I showed interest in becoming more than friends with her. She told me: you don't even come close to his level… I think that she was- is upset because she felt like she was cheating on him with me. The last person she would want to talk to is me."

"Well, that certainly makes some sense out of what she said. She seems a little… no… _very_ traumatized; she needs someone to talk to."

Alenko sighed.

"I'll see what I can do."

He headed up to the captain's quarters and was genuinely surprised to find that the door was unlocked. He knocked just be sure that she was okay with company.

"Come in," he heard someone that was definitely not the Shepard he remembered speak from the other side of the door. He gulped and hit the button to open the door.

* * *

Alenko. Great. The exact person she wanted to see because it was not like he was the one she almost cheated on Garrus with. She really wanted to talk to the person that felt like blaming for all of these problems. Damn him for being so similar to Garrus and slipping into her personal space. Damn his perfections and apparent lack of defects. She did not want to be reminded that she was Human because it reminded her that she was inherently unable to ever nail down relationship that she could take for granted. Those she loved, she either left or left her.

"What do you want Alenko," it was barely a question and more a command.

His expression did not shift in the slightest at her negativity. She kept touching that charm on her neck like it was the only thing left that kept her tied to the world and staring into space in a daze. His blood ran a little cold when he realized that he had taken it from her a few weeks previously to take a look at it. He recognized that as a mistake. He knew now that she had lied to him about it. She always said it was gift from her family; but it was evident that it was really a gift from her boyfriend. She had panicked and searched for it specifically when he tried to advance their relationship.

From there he was able to reason it out. When they had dropped down to the base she had been relatively okay. Perhaps her boyfriend was working in the base or was one of the soldiers on the ground, but she could easily have figured that out from the ID lists they were given for their HUD IFF systems.

Then those Turians had shown up… the Black Ops guys… one had been picked off by a sniper. Alenko put the pieces together. Her boyfriend was that Turian. Was he supposed to be disgusted by that? Offended? He was not to entirely sure. How Shepard could ever consider a Turian as a romantic interest was over his head. But it was clear that the talon belonged to him. Alenko assumed that it was some tradition of theirs equivalent to exchanging engagement rings or marriage rings. And that talon was the only remainder Shepard had of her boyfriend to whom she was either engaged or married.

He knew that he would have to be extremely delicate about this. If she was romantically involved with a Turian then she knew them very well. He barely knew anything. It would be so easy for him to offend her. He did know that Turians were extremely polar about relationships; they were either completely committed or completely casual.

She had also lost him. Any wrong move and she was gone.

"I thought you might like some friendly company after whatever it was that happened today. I apologize for making a move when you didn't want to… I just want to stay friends. I promise I won't to take advantage of you or anything…"

She glared at him and then dropped her head.

"Yah, but I might. This whole thing is my fault."

Alenko was shocked that she had actually said something to him. He had come prepared with his implant fired up and ready to defend himself from her in the event that she should lash out from anger or insanity perhaps.

"Listen, Shepard, if I had known…"

"I told you… this whole thing is _my fault_," she was back to glaring, "I waited _six years_ to see him again. And then I was too stupid to realize that someone might come along and misinterpret my flirting, and that I might be too thick to notice. I betrayed him, Alenko. Then the next day, which is today, I see him again; my only, the one who helped me through the loss of my family and gave me back my reason to fight for my future. The first time I see him after six years… and his arm is blown off in the matter of a minute. His last words weren't 'I love you,' they were 'I deserve to die because you ran off with someone else.' Do you have _any_ idea what that is like?"

Alenko had no response to that. He did have a hard time putting himself in her shoes because he could never imagine falling for an alien, possible an Asari but only because they looked so similar to human women. But the way she described the scenario certainly placed to value to the fact that he was an alien. In fact, she had not mentioned once that he was an alien, but it did not matter. It was a horrendous experience.

"The night my family died; he held me. He supported me. He was my best friend," her eyes were glassy, "When I went off to Anderson I was clinically depressed form the loss of my family, the isolation, almost everyone at Anderson is a snob. After a coma I was granted some recovery leave. My friend took me away from society, just the two of us, to the most beautiful place I can think of, for two months. He is the reason I was able to recover and return to a relatively normal lifestyle. And yeah, I'm not afraid to admit that I had sex with a Turian. Anyway he gave me this, his talon," she held up the charm, "before he left and I never saw him again. It's a promise."

Alenko tried not to let his revulsion to the fact that she had actually engaged in sexual intercourse with a Turian get to him. To each their own. However, he could understand how she saw her Turian boyfriend as perfect. Anyone with that kind of lifelong relationship would develop that.

"You know all the strength that I appear to have is because I've spent my entire life since then trying to do something to make him proud of me. So now that he's gone I have no idea why they hell I'm still doing here. I don't really want to keep him waiting."

"I'm almost positive that he would not want you to simply give up for him."

"Don't shoot yourself in the foot Alenko," she snapped, "when you promise yourself to a Turian that is _exactly_ what you do. You give up a part of yourself. I gave up too much. His presence was always around; for five years he stayed by my side and shaped me to be the best. But it's _gone_ now Alenko. I know for a fact that he is dead, I watched the life drain from him. Before, I knew that I would see him again. But now, I know that will never happen. I'm not going to fight to make a memory proud Alenko. It is a waste of time."

Alenko sighed in exasperation.

"Alright Shepard. If you ever want to talk, you know where to find me," he left the room.

* * *

Silis Nostrom lowered her rail driver as the Sicarian dropships piled over the ride one after another. She had not expected to see her target here but had not hesitated to remove him, as the Honoress had commanded of her. The poor little _human_ there with him looked devastated but she could really care less. The only "_human_" that would ever hold her respect was Honoress. As far as she was concerned, the actions of the others were so atrocious that their lives were expendable.

She held no grudge against the Turi'ans as a race; they were the only so far to _attempt_ peaceful communications with them. She only repaid the debt where it was due; the life of one Turi'an would not change the tides of the war. With the debt repaid she returned to her mate where he lay and died holding him, the last thing she saw before her vision blacked out was the peaceful expression on her mate's visage, as if he were happy to see her once again.

Her son was in good hands, though it broke her already shattered heart cords to know that she would never get to witness their lives pan out. But Honoress was one of the most proficient and intelligent beings amongst Sicarians and she made her son happy; and knowing that, she was able to pass into the Light contentedly to reunite with Tivas Nostrom.

* * *

The Primarch had a particularly bad reaction to Garrus' "incapacitation." He and Garrus had become close friends due to similar personality types. That, and Garrus was the best of the best. There would simply be no other like him for the next millennia; his anomalies were one in billions. He had been furious to find out that he was downed by a Sicarian sniper when they were practically allies at this point. He found forgiveness within him when he was informed that Garrus would be making a full recovery and receive a Sicarian-designed prosthetic limb which would look almost exactly like his other arm: mostly cultured tissue but obviously prosthetic. It would include a Sicarian specially weaponized military holotool, which could outperform anything they had access to.

They did not want to think of it as an "upgrade" from his previous arm, but that was exactly what it was. The Sicarians that were currently invested in the project had also promised to restore the Vakarian pattern that had been once tattooed there.

Vicuts did exactly as Garrus had ordered of her at one point; she took up squad lead and began directing operations. _Heart of Earth_ turned to be a much bigger problem than they initially thought. Castus' and Krios' footage had been looked over by the squad, each one on the edge of vomiting. The one Sicarian they had let go ended up raking the various "scientists" and "doctors" in the immediate vicinity to pieces. After being shot through the head three times, the legs twenty, the chest ten, and the arms five, he finally bled out and died. He had taken maybe thirty lives; ten of which were unarmed and twenty of which were specially trained and heavily armored.

But they could not blame him for his actions. His mate had been found lying on an operating table, opened up for examination, bits and pieces of her lying about the laboratory. When his mate entered the room she held up a hand to him. She was alive and they were taking her apart still. Her mate had wept, all layers of his subvocals keening out in agony grasping her hand tightly in his. Victus had been moved almost to tears.

Castus had already cried; she had been there and seen it from afar. Thane would confess to her later that he could not stop reliving the memory from that day as it was the most shocking thing he had ever witnessed. He would often wake up in the middle of the night, shaken and disturbed.

They talked more and more with the Sicarians; more frequently to one in particular whose name translated roughly to "Oracle." He was the highest in power and prowess of their entire planet, so they spoke to him with the same respect they showed the Primarch. He and the Primarch were evenly matched for amicability and tolerance of progress; they hit it off immediately after just a few minutes of discussion.

The Primarch eventually brought the communication records to the council, practically begging them to cease their war when the Sicarians were barely even fighting back. The council took the violation of council law particularly heavily though. They all called varrenshit. The illogical behavior of the council races was too blatant and too convenient for the perpetuation of a war.

Their squad was eventually sent in to research the likelihood that possible conspiracy theories were truthful. The council races had to be in some sort of collaboration to wipe out the new intruders even when they were never given a chance in the first place. The Alliance kept ultimate control over the logs from first contact which they knew would contain the keys to figuring out what the problem was.

The squad received news that the Sicarians had completed Garrus' prosthesis after a week, but his coma continued on. The Sicarians, even with their superior technologies, could not predict when he would wake up. They said that his brain waves were suppressing normal thinking; in other words: he did not want to wake up.

* * *

Shepard had been pretty goddamn tolerant of these new enemies up until her Garrus was taken by one. Now she was filled with a hatred for them, bypassing any sort of logic that may stop her from thinking otherwise. She genuinely wanted to see them all destroyed for the wounds they were inflicting upon the galaxy.

She still thought first contact was bullshit and stopped trusting the Alliance altogether. What made her even angrier was learning that the base she had been protecting belonged to a shady supremacy group that had ties with the Alliance. It was not even important, just a research facility which captured these enemies and tortured them to find out how to better destroy them.

Shepard went straight to the council to apply for Spectre status. The Alliance was currently a mire of corruption that she wanted nothing to do with. A rumor was going around that the Alliance dreadnaught _SSV Kilimanjaro_ had specifically fuzzed out the incoming signals despite their clarity, just so they had an excuse to start another war. And she believed it. Since the anti-climactic end of the First Contact Conflict, there were so many generals and leaders who were disappointed that they had never gotten a chance to "prove Humanity as worthy," when they already done so by forging a peace treaty literally five months into skirmishes. Such a short conflict of such scale was completely unheard of. And within a few years they had been granted a council position. _A few years._

So now, because there was this new enemy, those in power felt like exterminating them and treating them like dirt was justified because Humanity needed a better seat with the council. Which it actually did not.

The council granted her a Spectre position. Shepard cared not for her accomplishments anymore. Garrus was gone and she was simply waiting to die. She had no time to celebrate the fact that she was the first human Spectre or one of the youngest in council history. It did mean, however, that she was able to get a hold of Arterius, who was a Spectre, Jole, and Vialan through council contacts and have them pulled from their positions. She ditched her Alliance crew, trusting no one. Shepard tried to bring along some of her most trusted, the select few, but they respectfully declined.

The council gave her a relatively diverse crew. Two Salarians, two Drell and a Hanar, six Asari, eight Quarians, sixteen Turians, and twenty Humans. All had volunteered and specially briefed on working in a multi-racial crew. She was still wary, feeling that the likely corruption running rampant included the council. After all, they were the ones who instantiated the law. They were the ones standing idly while Alliance, and more recently Asari and Salarian forces got ploughed through. The Turians were faring the best. She almost believed the rumor that they had brokered a backdoor treaty; but Garrus falling to one of theirs pretty much disproved that. At least by her logic.

It was good to have her old squad mates back but their dynamic was different. All three, from their previous experience with her could tell that something was off. Arterius was the first to ask.

"You smell like guilt; the kind that eats you alive. And emotionlessness. Who the hell are you?"

Shepard was about ready to snap at him. Jole cut in, overpowering the atmosphere with his immensely calm voice.

"Arterius."

He seemed to settle.

"Sorry Shepard."

"He's dead,"

The all narrowed their eyes. By now all three knew that she was engaged to a Turian; not just any Turian but Garrus Vakarian, so if she was talking about him then she was clearly out of her mind. Garrus Vakarian did not die.

"You mean your-" Jole began and quickly shut his mouth after seeing the tears come to her eyes in just a few blinks.

"Oh spirits Shepard," Valian breathed. "Impossible," Arterius muttered. Jole simply stared, head bowed slightly.

"How?"

"Arterius…" Jole warned.

"One of those things killed him."

They all nodded in recognition. They had recovered some their weaponry as this point; it utilized some tech that was way over their heads and it weight a shit ton. But they were powerful. The rail they drove was extremely massive for its kinetic energy. Anyone caught by a bolt would practically splatter into pieces.

They stood around awkwardly for a few moments before they moved on with themselves. Shepard went around and met with her diverse crew, which was sinking in with itself surprisingly well. It took the first day for her reputation as an emotionless hard-ass to go around. The council was making a huge deal about it but she could care less. To her, the lives under her leadership did not shape her view. They were the best she could ask for and they were willing to follow her into hell and kick Satan's ass with her.

She would be unstoppable with her old squad backing her up. As a Spectre was under her own authority; and right now she was interested in destroying everyone involved in the death of her beloved; which included everyone, not just the recent offenders of galactic law.

* * *

"Where are we?" Val said towards the Ilus' form which was outlined by his dimly lit amber markings. He continued to stroke and clean her, eliciting her own markings to burn for him.

"The Nostrom Legacy chambers. The tradition of mating in complete seclusion in the same space filled with the love and passion of your ancestors is indulgent. The Nostrom line just happens to be powerful, vast, and ancient. This place is thousands of years old but kept up-to-date."

So that explained why Val had the odd urge to strip herself of any kind of civility and ride him until they were both sore.

"Traditionally, I bring you here and we exchange our virginities on the first day. Then I ceremoniously bathe you while you remain open and vulnerable to me; and I to you. Then after we tire out once more I prepare you a sumptuous meal and we eat to regain our energies so we can continue to passionately mate for the rest of the second day. I think that we will skip the completely submerged mating though… your biology does not lend itself to extracting the oxygen from water via electrolysis. We will just stay above the surface."

_Submerged_. Damn her need for oxygen.

"We sleep intimately for the first time after the second day has passed. Then the third day we hunt… although the modern variant is to simply soar together, and get back out into the daylight. We will then return and make love until the first signs of a crest, which pretty normally manifests midday on the third day."

Sex for three days. Val was already purring eagerly; and she was already without clothing. How convenient. The whole tradition sounded like the only proper way to celebrate such a connection between two beings.

"_Let us spend our time wisely then,_" she purred with her implants, keeping her mouth flattened to his, nipping lightly at the hardened upper lip that Sicarian males eventually grew in.

He was not quite ready for her so she took action and slipped down to his waist and dragged her tongue from the bottom of his plates to the top. Val was pleasantly surprised to find that the lubricant was sweet as it began to coat the scales and the slit. His heavy scent of lavender and citrus flooded onto her. She continued to lap at his plates until she felt them drag apart. While she really enjoyed his tongue, she was in no need of foreplay. Her arousal was in no need of attention; she was completely wet and ready for him as advertised by her markings. He emerged without the sheath and Val eagerly ground her hips against his.

"Take me," she purred, readying herself for entry.

He used his extra armatures to guide his penis into her without using his hands, which were massaging her muscles to relax them. The second time it was no less painful but infinitely more satisfying. He seemed to remember the correct depth from the previous session because he filled her completely just before reaching her limit. Her back arched and her mouth opened but no sound came out. Sicarians mated quietly… he had certainly impressed that upon her.

One of his pelvals was teasing her as she adjusted. His tongue dropped as low as it could, slither down between her breasts and pausing on her abdomen for a moment before injecting is potion. She felt his hands put pressure on her hips and shift them slightly back and forth until the force that his size exerted against her eased up. Even without the sheath he was textured and ridged; groves ran lengthwise so the sheath would not twist on him.

He backed up his hips slightly and then pushed forwards again, the plated sheath emerged and flared, and she could not resist watching each ring of plates stuff into her. The sheath backed up with his member when he thrust shallowly, scraping her inner walls and hitting every nerve ending everywhere at once. Her legs tightened, but the vice grip he held with which he held her waist kept her steady.

He stopped this thrusting but continued to move the sheath inside her, flaring in waves and sliding it back and forth along his member. His tongue was coiled around inside her mouth moving slowly around her tongue like a constrictor snake.

He moved his hips again, but he left his phallus buried within her, only moving the sheath over it as he pulled out. Val's eyes widened a little as she watched his muscles continue to flex underneath the scales. He continued to extend to counteract the movement of his hips. From there Val could see just how long he really was…

And he alternated between pulling himself back and leaving himself in as the sheath set her ablaze. Val was overloaded with pleasure; his serums had been working their hardest to remove any traces of pain. Ilus moved so fluidly and smoothly, there was too much stimulation. Val whimpered in pleasure against his neck and clamped down around his armored sheath as she was taken by yet another orgasm. He flared out in waves as he stopped moving. He filled her with the cooling salve and allowed her to recover again.

He placed a question into his subvocals to which she affirmed. Ilus began to move against her again. Val was taken by how tender and careful he was; but the intensity was not lost on her. The pace was eventually such that their hips met with enough force to create noise along with the light.

Neither kept track of how long they went. Val's body had adjusted so quickly to his that the pain just became a reminder of how the feeling of being filled so completely was so unbelievably satisfying. Her Sicarian muscle structures made her endurance superior; she was unable to outlast him, but she was certainly able to give herself back as long as he still had the energy.

The salve that he repeatedly filled her with during his orgasms quickly tightened her back up, healed most of the cuts she received from the plated sheath, and relieved the soreness in that area. Ilus eventually arrived at his limit; spilling one last time into her, adding to the already growing pool of the substance that had collected on the cavern floor after so much time. Val had all but sucked him completely dry of the stimulant and her skin was flooded with his scale lubricant as well as her own sweat.

She barely registered his member slam against her cervix and the sheath flare out extremely wide, nearly puncturing her tender walls. They both released one final dripping purr as they came. He drew out slowly, his sheath flatted. The last load of salve was squeezed from her as it worked its magic and restored her.

The sweet-smelling wind in her face was Ilus' heavy airflow. She was panting back. Their markings were still dancing and flaring, mirroring one another.

"_I can't even- oh Lights-_" Val could only speak using her subvocals because she was too occupied with sucking in deep gulps of air to operate her vocal cords.

"_If I told you how long we've been mating you wouldn't believe me,_" Ilus replied, holding her against him snugly.

"_I think you mentioned something about a meal… Now I can see why you mentioned that it would be sumptuous._"

"_Definitely. Oh dear Lights I don't think I'll be able to walk…_" Ilus snapped his bone clutches open and promptly dropped onto her. Luckily, he was quite lightweight and she was able to push him and herself up with all of her remaining strength. Val took a step, surprised that her legs were not completely failing her and for the lack of pain between them. She teetered around for a moment before Ilus grabbed her with his anteriors and held her back to his chest.

Ilus groaned.

"I need to rest first, Cor'a. I really do."

"No need to apologize," Val had finally caught her breath enough to begin to use her vocals again.

"Will you join me?" he sounded nervous that she was going to reject him. She remembered that females tended to be particularly dominant in the relationship; the male did almost everything for her ease of living, which included depriving himself of various necessities so that she would never have to feel negative effects.

"Of course, I could certainly do with the down time."

Ilus carried her over to a space and she felt his feet leave the ground through hers. Her chest pressed against something soft and comfortable as he lifted them. Her heart fluttered when she realized that she was sharing a bed with him for the first time. That was just as intimate, if not more so, than the act of mating. He sensed her thoughts and twisted her around so that she was lying against his chest, head tucked under his.

His membranes expanded and wrapped around her. They were delightfully soft and did nothing to disrupt the comfort that the bed pressed against her back provided. She heard some light clicks as his bone clutches slipped a few notches tighter and then snapped down. Val fell asleep quickly, his scent continuously bathing her. She completely relaxed her body, knowing that he would never let her fall. She felt safer than she had ever before in her life. Ilus purred and cooed and made all sorts of peaceful noises that quickly slipped her under.

"I love you," were her final words before darkness overcame everything and she was fast asleep.

* * *

Victus felt so awkward leaving their commander lying on the medical bed and taking the squad that he had single-handedly turned into the greatest fighting force known away from his leadership. They were getting ready to head out and expose _Heart of Earth_, and those involved with it to the council. It would be devastating to the Alliance, the main proponent, but necessary to remove those in high-command who were dragging the war out far longer than it had to.

Their comms traffic monitoring as well as answers from the Sicarians who had been captured gave them so many leads it was barely even fair. Two of the Sicarians even offered to assist them but they declined; they did not have enough room to accommodate two more beings and Victus was not about to replace two of her commander's squad with complete strangers. They had obediently accepted her decline without pushing the matter which was a shock to her.

Garrus' squad, under Victus' command, would have to take on one of the most dangerous and risky infiltration missions they had ever faced: they were going to have to remove a military figurehead who was linked to a great deal of _Heart of Earth_ who lived _on Earth_. If they were discovered, there would be another war which they could not afford to fight right now. And by "they" she meant Humanity.

The one thing that redeemed the entire mission was the fact that this figure would be barely guarded, if at all. They likely thought that Earth was untouchable, impervious to an invasion. Quite the contrary. And that was why it would be so effective. The false sense of security was at its highest degree because Humanity had not accepted alien embassies; there was no reason to suspect internal corrosion from alien culture. So the last thing they expected was for five Turians and a Drell to show up and… deal with a problem.

Because if their squad did not invade, then the Sicarians would. In talks Victus could see it in their manner of speaking and acting that they were indifferent species genocide. From their perspective it was justifiable; it was simply doing what was best for the galactic community as a whole. If one race was fucking it up for the rest of them then that race had no right to continue. Victus had recoiled; it was the worst kind of mentality to have regarding such a thing. But then again, she knew absolutely nothing about them. She forced herself and her squad mates to tolerate it for the time being, until they had the opportunity to learn more about the galaxies newest addition.

* * *

Shepard and her team lay in wait for the proper moment to strike. One of the largest Asari weapons manufacturers had been discovered to possess a few major Asari political figureheads involved with council affairs. When they brought the industrial empire toppling down they anti-enemy side of Asari politics would lose so much momentum.

Shepard barely cringed when she found out that there were four Spectres involved in keeping this power alive. They had access to all kinds of council-kept secrets like the very same ones that Shepard had exploited to find them.

Shepard had specifically asked the council to give here every scrap of information they possessed about the new enemy, which learned called itself Sicarian. She was completely and utterly flabbergasted when she learned that they were a _new race, new to the galaxy_. And Shepard was furious; her mother and father had worked tirelessly to give Humanity the name it deserved and corruption in command squandered it.

She had fished out a lone security tape from the base that had been overrun; the one at which her Garrus had been… killed. She could barely stomach the thought. Those two words did not belong in the same sentence. Most of the footage was corrupted; likely the Sicarians had disabled cameras before dropping in and busting out their people.

Shepard did not know what had disgusted her more about the footage: the fact that the Humans had been operating one of them while… she… it… she was still _alive_ and a male who was clearly her mate or partner or lover had come in just to see her die. Shepard realized she could barely even begin to relate to that. If it had been Garrus on the table…

Or the way the male had killed off the Humans in the area. It was brutal, painful, gruesome, and grizzly. And she counted four shots to the head; all of which had entered and exited, spraying his eerie yellow blood across the ground to mingle with that which he had ripped from the scientists and combatants. Once he had exhausted himself had covered his mate with one of those back-armatures, which was actually a wing, and ceased movement altogether.

More Humans rushed into the room and repeatedly unloaded ammo into the beast, which did not fall. Eventually there was so much gore and bullet holes that it seemed to snap in half. Its waist and legs toppled where they had been practically severed from the body but the torso remained locked in its position. Shepard turned it off before she could watch them annihilate the rest of the creature, which was clearly dead.

Shepard knew that if given a similar situation replacing those two with Garrus and she, nothing would be different. She felt sympathy for specifically that alien and his mate, but not the race. She would never forgive what they had done to her Garrus. She was fighting to rid the Alliance of its dishonor, not so that the Sicarians could enter into the galactic community. The conflict had turned into a war and council-sided casualties were far too high. Entire fleets would be driven back by a few Sicarian ships.

No Shepard was fighting so that the council would stop wasting lives towards a lost cause. The Sicarians were impossible to defeat despite their apparent low numbers. The more the council wanted them dead, the more the council lost. Shepard needed to beat it into their ignorant little heads that their strategies were not working; that forming some kind of treaty with these disgusting things was the only way to end the conflict.


	27. Collision

Yes I did make a jab at my own writing...

Sorry for the long chapter.

* * *

Night was always too quiet for comfort where she worked. She could not help her own paranoia, it was simply built in to the Vakarian intuition to be constantly aware of the situation as if it were a battlefield, no matter what the situation actually was. And at that moment, the situation was a quiet, solitary, brightly lit living-space in the middle of fucking nowhere.

Of course, she was content to be on the forefront of scientific and technological discovery; she was occupying her dream of shaping it and putting her name squarely in the history books as one of those who changed the galaxy for the better. Although, what she was doing and where she was doing it were both a little skewed from her initial visions.

Solana Vakarian was a technical director on a highly advanced and highly classified joint operation between Turian Black Ops and STG to produce an advanced and reliable prosthesis method. The war was beginning to take many limbs. More so than actual lives. The enemy, of whom she was still uninformed, preferred to incapacitate rather than kill. It was commendable, but it was also extremely irritating. Medical facilities were beginning to back up. It was almost worse. The governments of the various council races were spending more and more money to take care of their invalids than their soldiers.

Her senior thesis had won so many awards that she was sought-after by technical companies, weapons companies, medicinal companies. However, she rejected all of them uninterested in becoming a part of the problem in the war. So when asked to work on this project in particular, she accepted. She had been slightly shocked to find out that it was a joint operation, and she had been shocked to find out that it was a joint operation with _Salarians_ under complete and utter secrecy, under the threat of _attack_.

So far there had been nothing of note. Their research facility was located extremely remotely and hidden away by all kinds of available cloaking technology. They were in the midst of a thick but beautiful jungle, covered with layers and layers of trees, thermal, and even optical cloaking.

"Vakarian," Solus clipped as he walked by her room in the hallway.

"Dr. Solus," she offhandedly replied.

She sat in silence again, returning to her work which was primarily concerned with the more technical side of designing a prosthetic that would be able to fulfill all of the functions it needed to. In collaboration with Solus' team, they were integrating biologically cultured tissues and non-living structures to achieve their goal.

"Greetings Ms. Vakarian," chirped the always happy and energetic Dal Koss as he entered her room.

"Koss, what can I do for you?" she replied genially.

"I have some updates from the bio-team for you. I've already gone and looked it over… sorry."

"I don't mind. It will save us time anyhow."

Solana took the data from him and began to read while he waited expectantly, as if waiting for her to approve his leave. As technical director she was highly respected around the base for her skills. Koss was a member her team. A gifted little Salarian with more of a knack for design and aesthetic than the technical side, but his deep understanding of both was mutually beneficial. She had put him in charge of making sure that their prosthesis _looked_ like a limb and not something from a poorly-made sci-fi movie.

After all, the subjects to be receiving these new limbs would have to live with them for the rest of their lives. Or until a newer and better one came out. They had relationships to consider; Solana was not really in the position to imagine a mate losing an arm or a leg and then having it replaced, but she could imagine that anything blatantly prosthetic and synthetic would be… would be quite bad-ass but that was beside the point. The prosthesis would have to have as little an effect on the live it entered.

The news from the bio team was better than good. It was perfect.

"This is… unbelievable," she finished a little short for breath.

"Didn't believe it myself," agreed Koss.

"Let me get ahold of Mantas, so the three of us can disbelieve it at the same time," she joked sarcastically, "HEY XEV!" she called out. The still rather young and extremely unbelievably hot Turian tech on her research team shuffled into the room wearing nothing but his under suit pants. Solana wondered what the fuck she kept doing wrong that permitted her virginity to stay intact around that guy.

Over twenty and still a virgin. There had never been any _time_ to relieve stress that way. She was such a nerd, or just really bad at flirting. Or both.

"What is it?" even when he _talked_.

"Take a look at his," she ordered and handed him the datapad. He scanned over it quickly and then his jaw dropped open.

"No way…"

"But they don't lie, so all of that's true," Solana clarified.

"But this is like… this actually makes our job _easier_."

"No challenge anymore," Koss added in.

"Yeah I agree," Solana confirmed, "I signed up because I wanted a challenge…" she huffed.

"Well," Mantas supplied, "don't get too cocky-"

"I'll get all the cocky I want…" Solana muttered under her breath. Mantas ignored her and continued.

"This simply means more time to work out the kinks on our end… because they're _done_ in bio."

"I suppose it's for the best. Koss you can have a field day with this one."

"Yes ma'am," he chirped before leaving, "goodnight ma'am."

"Night," she replied.

"I will see you in the morning, Ms. Vakarian," Mantas seemed to purr, intentionally teasing her.

"Or you could see me right now, _Mantas_," she tried. He shook his head, amused, and left her there all hot and bothered. The worst part was that he _knew_ she wanted to get in his pants because her mating scent was thick even in her nostrils. But he also knew that she was a virgin. Turians generally considered it disrespectful to lose virginity to another Turian who already had sexual experience. It was just one of those irritating things… And since no Turian virgin _existed_ over twenty she was apparently doomed.

Solana turned back to her work in her seclusion and found her thoughts drifting back to Garrus. Her mother and father had informed her of his squad's acceptance into Alfa Dexteras and she had wept. She loved her brother, even though he was an impossible bar to reach and barely even part of the family anymore because of Black Ops; even if he would never allow her to find a mate because none would ever be good enough for his little sister.

* * *

"Councilor Valern, Councilor Tevos, Councilor Sparatus," he turned to the human councilor and gave a particularly slimy smile, "Councilor Udina. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," Harper greeted. Already his anticipations were rising.

"Commander Harper," Sparatus clipped, clearly disgusted. Harper simply grinned smugly, "It has come to our attention that an insurgent cell comprising of Turians and Salairans has been discovered with possession of some dangerous information. "Councilor Udina has called it to our attentions that your task force discovered this operation is requesting permission to shut it down," Harper could not help but smirk even wider as Udina shifted uncomfortably where he stood. Oh if the councilors knew what he knew…

"Yes Councilor," Harper replied with the _utmost_ respect, "I believe that their research is dangerous and could certainly cause disastrous proportions of harm to the citizens of the council spaces."

"What exactly _is_ their research," said the Salarian councilor, who exchanged a glance with the Turian councilor. Neither were happy to hear that some of their own had deserted and created a potential source of havoc. Harper knew that they knew about this operation; if he said too much about it they would deny him the right to assault the base and take the research for himself. All he had to do was cover it up and they would legitimately believe him.

"It is a biological weapon that could wipe out anyone who comes in contact. The problem must be stifled at the source before it can be used as leverage. We need stability and unity during this period of war with a powerful enemy. My team can preserve this unity."

The Salarian and Turian councilors relaxed a little, biting the bait eagerly.

"Very well," Tevos concluded, "your team is granted the permissions to remove this threat. Thank you for bringing this to our attention.

Harper turned and left the council chambers with a smirk on his face. The rewards he would reap would put Humanity at its rightful place.

He briefly considered what kind of alien corporations there were that controlled the council. He knew that the Alliance was directly influencing their actions because they were the ones who had made first contact and the ones with the most experience. The… "medical" discoveries made thus far gave them a vast knowledge on how to kill the disgusting creatures quickly and effectively. But it was still difficult.

If Harper could make any guesses; it was that the Asari politicians were all hired by weapons manufacturers so they _all_ wanted the war to continue. The Salarians were likely no different, only they focused more on medicine. No war, no high production rate and value of medigel and other medical necessities. The Turians… well he was not quite sure. He did not get a good feeling about the Turians; the backstabbing bastards probably had a treaty with the demons right now. Although, he would have known if they had one, so that was unlikely.

Harper had heard this silly rumor that a Human on the Sicarian end, who was essentially the epitome of Stockholm, was desperately trying to contact the Alliance. Harper called bullshit. If there was Human vouching for the Sicarians the war would have been over by now. Or she would have been killed. More likely the latter.

He rounded up his "special forces" group and set off for this obscurely located, almost completely hidden base in which the answers to all of Humanity's problems lay.

He got a ping on his omni-tool from his second in command back at HQ. It was breaking news: General Mason found dead in home. Autopsy suggests he was shot and killed days ago. Harper's jaw dropped open. He had been on Earth, in his home. Well that certainly relieved him of a lot of work. Harper commended whoever had managed to pull that one off, but could not think of anyone who would want the famed General Mason dead. At any rate, _Heart of Earth _was such a silly and useless organization in the face of such a daunting prospect; like an innocent child were they.

Cerberus was far advanced; far more prepared to lead Humanity to masters of the Milky Way. With the surprise of such good news, he ordered his team forward.

* * *

Victus pinged Krios with a "blue" signal: code for a status update. He could either reply with green or… green really. Anything else and they were fucked. She breathed a sigh of relief as the green signal replied. She did the same for Castus and got her green signal. Levisian was set up somewhere, Victus had no idea, but she had successfully tagged each every last target outside and inside the house. Of which, there were quite few.

They had identified a detail of measly size that stood around not really paying any attention anyhow. A skycar was mounted on a helipad in the General's overly-sumptuous mansion for his "valiance" in the First Contact Conflict. The skycar was an unregistered model, highly weaponized, highly modified. It was there as protection as much as luxury. Should he try to escape, he would actually have a fighting chance.

Victus received the grey signal and responded by pinging green twice. Her breath was held tightly, as if breathing would give their entire squad away. She released her breath when the signal was given green. That meant they accomplished their task. General Mason was dead. Krios and Castus had five minutes to reach the shuttle, which would only stop to let them in for no longer than five seconds. Any longer and they would leave carbon traces.

Victus wished Garrus was there. He would have been proud of his squad. Victus had this dark, horrible, secret hope in the back of her head that without his command it would have gone completely sideways. She tried not to think about what he had told her years ago… about how he did not need to be there to lead them. She hated it when he was right. She hated that he was always right, even when it was the worst kind of right.

They made it out of the Sol system without leaving any traces that they had ever been there. _Heart of Earth_ comms scrambled and panicked and then eventually went dark into a disgusting mishmash of chaos with a lack of leadership.

* * *

"Finish her off Arterius," Shepard bit out before turning around to leave. He could tell she was channeling every evil and vengeful spirit she could wrap her celestial fingers around. She was so different since the first time they had met during Black Ops and N training. Everything about the mission they had just embarked upon proved that to all ends.

They had arrived fifteen minutes earlier, smashed a hole straight through the upper floor windows and entered from there. Shepard had stormed from the shuttle floor directly over the couple hundred meter drop between the building floor and the shuttle floor without hesitating. She had opened fire, dead eyes, and cold, perfectly precise aim. He was sure that most of the people she gunned down mercilessly were unarmed.

There no stopping her as she cut a swath of carnage and murder on her way to the main target, which had tried to flee. Shepard had plowed straight through all of the security forces and "innocents" alike and shredded one of the two targets to pieces. The other she felt the need to hand over to _him_ to execute.

Now she was stepping over dead bodies and pools of blood and gore. She even went as far as to kick a body out of the way which was blocking the door. Arterius' eyes were glued to Shepard as he pulled the trigger on the other Asari who headed the company, spattering the greedy bitch all over the already blood-stained carpet.

The three of them, her permanent ground team, were all growing increasingly worried about her. Her mental instability was augmenting at an alarming rate and they were afraid for her life. Eventually her instability would start to put them and her crew in physical danger.

With the empire collapsing, the hired politicians under their control with their proverbial fingers the Asari councilor's gaping vagina working her like a puppet were no longer kept around. They either went off to seek other forms of power and greed, formed their own ideas and advocated for them, or disappeared with their current wealth so that they would be forgotten in the next one to two hundred years.

* * *

The sirens sounded and Solana was awake and up instantly. They had been briefed on procedure, but she had expected that nothing of the sort would actually occur. But it was really happening, they had been discovered and invaded by some unknown force. Solana pulled on some clothing and hit the emergency data transfer overrides which flushed the servers free of any and all data, compiling it onto a small q-bit memory card which she strapped to her wrist.

She wished she had armor, but they had none in supply for non-security forces. She wished she had a fucking gun but even _those_ were not allowed to non-security. How the hell were they expected to defend themselves?

The alarm sounding now meant that whoever was breaking and entering the base was already _inside the base_. Solana knew that there would be deaths… she just hoped so much that some of hers made it out. She hoped that Mantas made it out with her. Hell she might even fuck Koss of they all got out alive. She bolted towards the door, towards the emergency shuttles that were buried in a hangar deep within the base.

Solana got into the hallway and immediately heard gunfire. She could hold her own in a CQC, but against firearms it would be impossible to get in close enough without armor. She kept her head level and maintained her sprint. Koss and Mantas were nowhere to be found which she hoped meant that they had made it out before her. She wound through the hallways, making sure the emergency charges were all armed and ready. They could not let their research be recovered by any outside forces. It was too valuable and too sensitive.

The mess hall was a mess.

Hardy harr harr. It would be funny if not for the dead bodies of their security team, their chef, and her colleagues scattered about dead in pools of their blood. She did notice a Human amongst the pile and narrowed her eyes. So it was _Humans_ who were attempting to get ahold of the research. How they found out about the base and its research was beyond her, commendable if they had managed to legitimately come across the base and perform recon without them realizing. She snapped a picture of the logo on the armor of the dead body and proceeded from the room.

Solana eventually came to the final stretch before reaching the shuttle bay, the door to which was disguised as part of the wall. It was undamaged which meant that it was safe, for now. Probably.

She froze when another Human figure stepped out from around the hallway opposite, noticed her, and pulled out his assault rifle. Solana barely hesitated. She was top ranked CQC, and she knew how to properly outmaneuver and obtain a covered position quickly. She dove back behind the corner she had just come around and noticed _another_ Human at the end of _that_ hallway. She was cornered.

The Human from before rounded the corner and she dropped low, sweeping his feet out from under him and grabbing at his gun. The Human at the other end of the hallway turned around but could not fire without risking his teammate.

The Human she was grappling with was too fast and too strong to be a Human, and he threw her off him, still holding his rifle. But Solana was better; she'd grabbed his sidearm. She flipped, landed behind him, and loaded the entire thermal mag into the back of his helmet. She was not quite fast enough, however, to grab onto his body and use it as cover. The pistol she was holding was completely out of ammunition. Good going, Solana.

She heard gunfire from the other end of the hall.

Then she felt something. Like a guiding hand. A transcendent connection. A black-clad figure darted around the corner like a spider, so fast that the bullets were interrupted. Solana found herself staring at the helmeted visage of her savior as he froze in front of her, staring back from behind his visor, and absorbing the entire thirty rounds into his back. The force of the impacts jolted his form.

Solana barely even thought. She ripped the sidearm from his leg and pulled the trigger at the Human firing from down the hall. Three bolts streaked down and immediately impacted the man in the head; the first two buried into the helmet and the third sliced right through.

Solana was frozen there with the black-armored thing in front of her. It had received thirty high velocity shots to the back. Its vitals were a complete flat line and she was sure it was dead. But what the hell was it. She glanced down and then realized that it was one of _them_. She took a step towards the slender but amazingly powerful figure in front of her, possessed entirely. This thing, this Sicarian as she was told they were called, was supposed to be the enemy. He had apparently decided that he would rather give her a second chance.

She jumped out of her plates when he moved. Apparently no vital sings meant that they were completely fine. She absorbed his alien appearance: the five-fingered, two-thumbed hand, the wings on the arms and back, the triple-jointed digitigrade feet, the fact that he was a little over two meters tall, which dwarfed her frame.

She was still holding his sidearm and made to give it back to him. He closed a hand over hers, signaling her to keep the gun. Solana could feel the surge of energy in his touch. They were both reluctant to release the other's grasp, and she hoped that did not mean what she thought it meant. He made a flash movement, grabbing the rifle from his back using his forearm wings and sliding the grips into his hands from there. Solana got the distinct impression that he was embarrassed.

"Come, we have already recovered anyone we can from this emplacement. You stand the solitary remainder."

She had heard rumors about their voices. She had thought them all false, of course, no one had sexier voice than a turian male in his prime. Drell _maybe_. But then there was _this_. She could hear his youth, his energy, his prowess, _everything_ through that voice. And it was attractive despite being one of… one of _them_. She had not actually seen one of their faces up close, let alone any other part of them besides the wings that stuck out of the armor.

"How am I supposed to trust you?" Solana narrowed her eyes and held on to her… _his_ pistol with a tighter grasp, and tried to keep her mind from wandering anywhere dirty with that thought. He paused for a moment.

"They told me to offer up a few words they knew you would understand in a situation such as this. They said: 'We need not ask for transcendence, for we would leave behind those who need us most.'"

That was the safe-phrase, which could mean a few things. But Solana could feel his anxieties and his nervousness that she would threaten him through his armor. She did not know how, especially when his body was completely frozen and disguising all ability to read body language.

"A-alright," she finally said, lowering the sidearm.

"We must hurry," he purr-growled. Oh dear spirits. She barely even knew him. She did not know _anything_ about him or his race so what the hell was going on?

He took off at a sprint which absolutely crushed her top speed. And he was wearing big bulky armor. He slowed to her pace and allowed her to stay at his side as they ran. At one point he leapt, twisted over in the air and landed on his back armatures which acted like giant spindly legs to keep him moving, and fired off a shot with that enormous rifle of his. Solana had no idea how he had known exactly where there would be a target, but the shot found its mark and tore the Human's head right off through the neck. He twisted back around and kept running as if what he had just pulled off was nothing too special.

He led her to the roof of the building and gave her no warning before he wrapped one of those long, powerful arms around her waist, pulled her close and lept into the air. Rifle, armor, another entire being. Powerful wings beat with unparalleled intensity as he carried them up slightly and forward rapidly into the chilling night.

A shuttle swept in from orbit faster than she had _ever_ seen _anything_ travel in atmosphere before and stopped on a dime in front of them with the bay door open. Her savior swept into the quite spacious bay of the medium sized transport craft and set her down. She reluctantly stepped out of his personal space.

She remember him saying that she was the only remainder and hit the detonator on the base, hoping that its secrets were completely consumed by the fire. They would lose some progress, of course, but

They were the only two in the hangar right now. Her thoughts should have been on where she was being taken, what they were going to do with her once they reached their destination, where her colleagues had been taken to, if she was going to be taken directly to them… so many things she _should_ have been worrying about.

But no, in that moment the only thing she wanted in the world right now was for the… Sicarian who had swept in at the last moment and absorbed thirty rounds of ammunition meant for _her_ without as much as a flinch to take his helmet off. She wanted to see his face. So badly. And she was terrified because she did not know why.

And as if he had been able to read her thoughts like listening to her speak them out loud, he took off his helmet.

* * *

Harper narrowed his eyes at the report he had received from the assault that _should_ have gone without a hitch on the prosthesis research base.

"Where did my men go?" he asked on the edge of fury.

"Sir, they were all reported dead."

"How."

"They were shot; most were mortally… destroyed by their weaponry."

"But they were a _research team_. They were security forces were _weak_. We made sure that their security forces were weak!"

"It was not their security forces that stopped the raid, sir."

"Then who was it?" Harper ground. The only surviving member of the task force that he had sent into that base paused before clarifying.

"I have no idea."

Harper thought better than yelling at the superhuman he had created; the superior soldier that would easily be able to kill Harper before the control chip could kick in and stop him. He massaged his temples. So the raid had been a complete and utter waste of resources. He had spent millions on the superhumans sent forth in that raid. They were faster, stronger, and more intelligent than any creature on the battlefield and some external force had apparently come through and decimated them. He could think of nothing off the top of his head with that capability.

And what was worse; they gained not a scrap of information. The server was physically manifest and completely disconnected from the extranet, which meant no hacking externally. It was completely wiped clear of any and all information by the time his tech specialists could insert the AI into the system. They had found physical prototypes of what they were looking for but none of the soldiers had made it out alive with their objective.

Then the base had self-destruct. Figures. Everything inside would be dead anyhow, and it was better that there be no traces that Cerberus forces had been there in the case that a formal investigation was conducted by some kind of special forces branch. Cerberus had to stay off the radar to the best of its ability. Recently there had been numerous reports of corrupted corporate empires and supremacy groups dropping like flies. The council was quickly becoming cleansed of these sources of corruption. And soon enough, when these fucking disgusting creatures were accepted into the council, there would be no point; no war to capitalize on.

"Dismissed," Harper sighed and waved him out. He continued to rub his temples in frustration. He had no idea what he was supposed to do now that his only shot at ascension was crushed. He guessed that he would lie low for a while, long enough that Cerberus was forgotten by all but the Alliance, who kept a constant supply of resources and money directed their way. Harper was proud to say that where the Alliance was not allowed to risk their image, they got Cerberus to do the dirty work.

* * *

She had never seen one face-to-face. But _damn_.

She was working between extremely attractive and extremely disgusting because there was no middle ground for her judgment here.

A crystal clear sea of intense aqua were the tiny scales on his face, each with a vivid turquoise specular on the edges. Four mandibles, both sets trimmed to stay inside the helmet. Her eyes lingered on the jaw split for a moment, wondering if that was actually functional, and the noticing that he had a very, _very_ soft and smooth looking lower lip which was partially covered by a sharper upper lip, like the plate of a Turian. His lips were parted slightly, indicating shock. She could hear some kind of subvocals

Her eyes were drawn up to his… eyes. Unblinking, pure golden spheres like a sunset, maybe more intense, maybe deeper, maybe more breathtaking. Solana had _heard_ this described by other Turians and thought them the romantic ramblings of those in retrospect but this was that. Practically word for word. Damn her species and their black and white romantic tendencies.

Maybe he just wanted to fuck and leave. Maybe they were casual about that.

But. She could just _feel_ his sincerities; his unmistakable and utter attraction to her. They were a perfect pair. Solana remembered back to the base: her body had reacted to his without her thoughts intervening. Her form honed to a second half of his. She could feel all of that like it was being spoken to her.

That connection was the very same one that made sure she recognized that his focus was on her and her alone.

They stared at each other, shocked at the speed of their bonding, shocked at the object of their bonding, and shocked to the point of inability to care that the other seemed to be a different species.

Solana inched forward at the same time that he did, and that was the only cue either of them needed to close the space. Swept into his arms like they had been together for their entire lives. This was entirely different from the flight experience. Now he was holding her against him like he meant it. His arms were powerful and graceful in their movements, and when he froze he _froze_; no movement whatsoever as she held him around his waist and he held hers.

Solana began to suspect that it something on his end causing her to feel this way, because this experience was too surreal to be reality. Too romantic… saving her from certain death in an instant and then flying her off? Her life apparently ran to the plot of an overtly overly-romantic and rather poorly written novel.

"Do you feel it? The bond? Please, permit my senses no denial… It would kill me," he growled, his mouth inches from hers. Spirits her feet were barely touching the ground.

"Why is this happening? You aren't even-"

They were cut off by their apparent arrival as the shuttle slowed and eventually stopped. He growled in frustration and reluctantly let her go. He pulled the helmet over his face and blocked out everything that made him.

"You will be escorted towards the members of your scientific research team recovered from harm's way," she could feel his glare at everyone responsible for separating them. Well at least that answered her questions about where her teammates were. She wondered how many had survived.

"What-"

"I will come to you myself," he concluded before stalking out of the shuttle bay and disappeared. Solana felt alone and threatened, surrounded by the supposed enemy. Two figures approached her; one clearly male based on her previous encounter and the other was clearly… female. Solana tried not to stare. Their females, at least through their armor, were remarkably similarly shaped to the Asari. She began to wonder how it was that her savior, for whom she had no name, had known that she was a female. As far as she was concerned, it was the first time he had ever seen her race before up closely and personally and she looked nothing like a female Sicarian.

She could not accept the fact that he just immediately knew. Maybe he could read her pheromones? Maybe they were like the Asari and they could sense the "auras" of other beings, and read them like an advertisement.

The two said nothing but she followed them anyway. The hangar they were in was spacious and had plenty of room for more shuttles in it. She was brought to one side and then led through a very well-designed and quite wasteful-looking interior to a set of double panels with no handles. One of the figures made a gesture on the surface, a display appearing on the door at her fingertips and glowing in assent with the proper biometrics. Solana tried to gape.

The panel hissed and the both swung inwards into a room with five, _five_ other beings whom Solana recognized. Two Turians: Mantas and Quintus, and three Salarians: Koss, Solus, and Abilon. She cringed. They were lucky that the most important members of the research team had gotten out but they had still lost so many good people to that raid.

They exchanged words of sadness, happiness, relief, and anxiety. They were not sure where they were with respect to the world outside or what the Sicarians wanted with them. They had been brought to this nice waiting area with dark, cool and calming colors, and water sculpture in the center completely with cyan lighting for maximum effect. Alloy sat around the walls and decorative patterns, both aesthetic and structural. Since the others had arrived, they had not been spoken to.

Eventually two Sicarians came in, a male and a female, and escorted the group out. They were led to a different zone in which they were all assigned rooms and split off. Quintus and Mantas shared a room. Solana huffed at that. Dal and Abilon were given quarters. Solus was split into his own quarters. The only glimpse of the quarters Solana caught revealed that they were enormous. It would be impossible for all the crew's quarters to be sized in such a way.

Solana was separated from them deliberately and led throughout the vessel to another door where she was left standing there wondering what the hell was going on.

The door panel clicked open and none other than her savior appeared there, fully changed into stylish Sicarian civvies.

And oh Spirits did they complement his form to no end. She gawked at the sinewy, corded muscles that ran under his scales where they were visible. He was slender, the powerful kind of slender found in masters of CQC. His shoulders were not too broad and his waist narrowed, but not nearly to Turian extent. She noted the odd protrusions on his chest and around his legs and tried to keep dirty thoughts of what those might be out of her head.

"Please, would you join me in my quarters," he bowed slightly, mandibles flicking in clear nervousness, and gestured to the spacious room behind him. Solana just nodded and entered with him at her back. Which irritated her because she wanted to ogle his form from the rear as he walked ahead of her.

"Please forgive me for being so rude in behavior previously. I know nothing about your culture and practices, I know nothing about you in specific, I was simply… overwhelmed… by… you. Oh Lights I deserve castigation for my reprehensible actions!"

Solana found herself purring out calmly on her subharmonics in an attempt to cool his nerves and because she found his voice alone simply irresistible. She knew nothing about him and his culture either, but that was not going to stop her from learning. Not after the moment they had shared in the shuttle. She had to have an explanation for that.

"My name: Telicos of Varist," he said quietly, voice like warmth.

Telicos Varist was his name Solana told herself. Do _not_ fuck up the subharmonics you dolt.

"Solana Vakarian," she replied, matching his tone. They settled into an awkward silence, staring at each other.

"Sicarians bond quickly," he blurted out suddenly, drawing her attention, "when we find a match, _the_ match that properly completes ourselves, we are intensely and utterly in love; Biological imperative to stay with our mates and protect them with our own lives. We know the connection when we feel it, like a rush of emotions indescribable with words. It is what I felt when I first encountered you upon the planet, in the building. I could see that you were my completion in the way you moved in unison with me, the manner with which you fearlessly and efficiently used my sidearm as an offence to complement my defense. I was moved, stricken by your beauty and ferocity, your tenacity, and became blind to everything but your presence by my side where I crave it; need it. I am in love with you Solana Vakarian, my superconscious informed of a successful binding. I can only hope that yours is a species that binds quickly… because if my senses have been mistaken, I am a defect. And I am therefore obligated to remove myself from society."

Solana thought about what he had said and it impacted her deeply. Her skin flushed with blood in a blush at his shameless adoration of her. But even Turians, despite their quick bonding process, did not simply fall in love after mere minutes. But he was right in more ways than one. The last thing he had said struck her. If he was mistaken about his feelings for her then he was a "defect." A defect, obligated to remove himself from society.

But she knew what he was talking about. They had bonded quickly; despite an entire barrier in species. All those emotions that came with the bond were still around. "Love" was strange word to Turians; too many awkward and contradictory definitions. It was not the Asari or Human sense of the word with a grey zone associated with it.

Even though she was still mired neck-deep in disbelief, Solana took action now. She decided that she might as well follow her own subconscious sentiments as well as the ones he was putting her through.

"Var- Telicos," she began, practicing the sound of his name on her voice, "I don't really understand why I feel the way I do around you after such a short period of time… But, I'm not going to lie and say that I feel nothing. I will stay with you. So I understand why it is that I love you back after only," she looked at her omni-tool, "an hour and two minutes."

He seemed to release a great pressure from his shoulders and swept into her personal space with a clean and smooth movement, arms around her narrow waist in an instant. He stuck his face right in front of hers.

"Please, Solana, if it is too great a favor that I ask of you as you adjust to the bind, may you speak in denial so that I shall stop. I do not wish to make you uncomfortable or rush this for you while your mind deviates."

That was about when Solana realized that she had him in the palm of her hand. They were a race whose males were biologically encoded to do anything and everything the female needed to feel comfortable and settled. And right now, she just wanted to rest. She was tired as hell from the late night and waking up mere hours into a short sleep.

She looked around for the bed and then spotted one on the ceiling, of all places, and gave him an inquisitive look. He bobbed his head once and began to strip out of his clothing. He looked up at her hesitantly. How adorable.

"If you desire, I can fetch some light clothing. If you find me repulsive then I can find a way to cover myself…"

"No, no," Solana quickly clarified, "no you are quite handsome. I should probably be nervous that you find me too alien…"

His mandibles flared and his eyes flashed.

"On the contrary. You are sculpted. Elegant, fluid curves and sharp, stunning angles; a strong yet graceful predator to the core while at the same a compassionate and considerate being. You are exotic, beautiful in ways I never thought to consider."

"Are all Sicarians this poetic and passionate when speaking about their… mates? I said you are 'handsome,' and you follow up with _that_."

He chuckled softly.

"I suppose we cannot help the way we speak of those we love. It is like a reflex."

Solana was not sure if she should protest or… She found her clothes stripped off by her own hands in seconds, which left her just a few moments to ogle his masculine angles and muscles. So they were internal, she saw how it was, assuming that they followed the tab a-slot b model.

Was she finally going to lose her-

Telicos' chest, hip, and leg… arm-wing things shifted and opened up, hidden membranes snapping open; a brilliant glowing yellow like his eyes, casting off the beautiful and calming aqua scales of the very soft and inviting skin beneath. After neither of them moved for an awkward amount of time Solana picked it up that she was supposed to make the move here, and stepped up flush to him. She sighed in pleasure as their skin made contact in so many places.

The parts of her mind that screamed out to slow the hell down were overridden by the ones that simply wanted relax in the support of him. So she listened to the only voices in her head that she could at the moment and dropped her against his chest, which was covered in an elaborate exoskeletal bone which had begun to vibrate in a delicious low purr throughout both of their bodies.

Sleep now sex later she hoped. And of course, he was able to read her mind. Telicos dragged her up his scales so that their faces were aligned and allowed her to press her forehead against his. He seemed to know exactly what that meant and pressed back. He then pressed his lips to her moth plates and allowed his tongue to meet hers.

He moved them; the large armatures protruding from his shoulder area stretched and circled around the bed, pulling the two of them up. Her back was pinned into the soft mattress as he constricted the armatures and pressed closer. Luckily her back was quite flat, almost inturian, so she did not have to worry about it being a bulky nuisance.

Solana fell asleep quickly, tired, too taken by the sensations of being so enveloped by another being and so safe from harm. She could easily see the Sicarian appeal; no Turian would ever make her feel that way. She had a lot to learn, but there were certainly those things that would arrive naturally to them.

He breathed out upon her and was somehow able to sustain one breath indefinitely so that she was drenched in his scent; like rain and gunmetal. She wondered for a moment about how he would be able to keep this position up, even whilst sleeping, but put it aside as something that he was simply capable of.

So comfortable and safe, Solana was barely able to stay awake for long enough to think anything more perfect.

* * *

OCxSolana best ship... cookies for anyone that remembers Varist.


	28. Life Anew

Hope you guys enjoy.

* * *

"Commander Victus?" one of the Sicarians who had been monitoring Garrus for the pervious few weeks came in to her room. She hated it when they called her that. _Garrus_ was the commander of their squad.

"The subject is showing signs of waking," he continued. _The subject,_ he said. Victus scowled.

"Garrus is waking up?" she was practically breathless. After a month and a half completely comatose he was finally waking?

"Yes ma'am. Please come with me. My mate will inform the rest of your squad,"_ his squad_, "that he is coming to."

Victus leapt to her feet, adrenaline slightly blurring her vision.

"Bring me to him," she commanded.

"Follow me," he responded. Victus nodded and followed him out close on his heels.

Garrus lay as he had been for almost an impossible amount of time, his vital signs on the monitor were climbing. A few minutes later and the rest of the squad piled in. Krios stepped in seconds later and settled in by her side, one arm around her waist.

The prosthesis itself was composed of his genuine tissues which covered most of the arm. His markings had been replicated over ever possible surface. However, at the shoulder junction there was an obvious metallic seam and some metal bars that reached over his chest and back. The arm had an alloy division down the center which creased at the elbow to allow for flexibility. Some softly glowing lights, the same color as his markings, were blinking at the joints as they began to register neural activity.

Victus saw a bad-ass where most Turians would see a horrifyingly disfigured monster. Something about the prosthesis was just inherently different than a scar. A scar would repulse certainly, and she was proud of her commander for the lack thereof, but the new and shiny arm reminded her of him; his "don't fuck with me" side.

They all had their breath held, with the exception of the Sicarians who did simply siphoned air through their bodies.

His mind began to awaken thought by thought until they were firing off quickly enough to be considered REM sleep. Victus had leaned in closer and closer until she was practically bent over him, looking into his eyes.

Suddenly he shot up, his prosthesis active and fully functional, and wrapped the newly upgraded hand around her throat as he rose slowly from the bed growling. Victus gasped and the squad froze, not knowing what they should do. Krios drew his weapon immediately and kept it at the ready in case he needed it.

Garrus' eyes seemed to focus in on hers and recognition streamed in from all angles.

"Victus?" he turned, "Krios, Reventus, Levisian, Castus, Kryik," he arrived at the two Sicarians who were standing patiently to one side. Garrus narrowed his eyes and clearly thought better than to attack them judging from the actions of his squad mates around them. They were allies, even though their race was the enemy right now.

But he was furious. For whatever reason he was awoken from death back into a world without his Shepard as a part of his life. He had wanted to die. He had been content with death. He would not murder the two aliens or his squad mates, but he wanted to kill _something _in anger.

His left arm felt funny. There were all sorts of additional sensations coming from the left side specifically. Then he remembered that his arm had been scooped off from sniper fire. Sicarian sniper fire. But clearly something was off because there his arm was definitely there…

Then looked down and noticed the metal bars securing the shoulder socket properly to the clavicle and scapula, and anchoring the alloy support ring right into the ribs. It was the nicest, high-grade prosthetic he had ever laid his eyes upon and it was his to control. He was receiving and passing information to it with his mind. He could read every one's vital statistics and ID's just by looking at them.

"How long?" he growled.

"A month and a half," one of the Sicarians answered. He unknowingly bent the metal frame of the medical bed by gripping it so hard.

"Why did I wake up?" more than anything, he wanted to go back. He had nearly reached her in death, "I did not _want_ to wake up. Why would you _bring me back_, into a galaxy in which my _mate_ has moved on with another? _Why would I want to live_?"

That was news to all of them and Victus narrowed her eyes. She was going to kill Shepard for this. Garrus promised her everything and she had thrown it away. The entire squad seemed to growl in unison with Victus. The Sicarians narrowed their eyes for a different reason.

Victus heard the female growl "we brought back a defect," to her mate and she whirled.

"What did you call him?" Victus intensified her growl. Garrus simply stared in recognition. The female stepped forward.

"If his mate left him then he is defective; unable to properly bind and instill faithfulness."

She saw Garrus duck his head in the corner of her eye.

"Garrus is _not_ defective," Victus bit out.

"Stand down Victus!" Garrus rose his voice, "they are right. I apologize to you," his attention was directed at the Sicarians, "who gave me this when I did not deserve it," he flexed some unknown never-before-used muscle and a sleek and deadly looking holographic cobalt blade materialized around his forearm and extended. Then his arm morphed in all sorts of grotesque directions until all that was left a protruding barrel: the dual-rails of a Sicarian rail driver formed from the same rods that composed his radius and ulna. It was a said irony; that the very instrument of his arm's removal was now imbedded into it.

The squad gasped and took a step back from the thing that Garrus' arm had become. He glared at the device. Through force of will he hid everything away again. His gaze fell upon Victus and she could feel all the hatred and the fury rushing through his eyes.

"I'm going to find her," he said too quietly, "and I'm going to make sure that she has really moved on. And when I know she has… I am going to kill myself."

The Sicarians looked and sounded furious that they unknowingly blown all this time and money giving potential to useless creature.

"Commander-" Victus stepped in. Garrus whirled around and pointed a synthetic finger at her accusingly.

"You _remember_ what I told you Victus!" he commanded "How many impossible feats have you pulled off in the month and half that I was dead? Allow me to check," he sneered, using his neural interface to access the Alfa Dexteras database, which was already connected into his quite improved Sicarian holotool, "You took down another supremacy group, by going _to Earth_, which would have continued to send corrupted orders to keep up the attacks on the Sicarians. You broke down two entire industrial empires and allowed for benevolent politicians to fill up the space left by the corrupted ones you so kindly assassinated. You provided covert overwatch to a Salarian and Sicarian diplomatic meeting; at which you disarmed a _bomb_ linked terrorist cell. Which you then neutralized. There's more…"

Victus' mandibles were twitching.

"You don't _need me_," he concluded, "but as long as I am in command I will act accordingly." He strode from the room completely naked to retrieve his clothing and armor.

The female Sicarian pulled up something on her holotool just then, read it then let a whole series of trills and clicks fly from her complex vocals. Her mate snapped his attention to her as she rotated the display so he could read the foreign text more easily. His mandibles twitched and his jaw halves shifted.

"Oh Lights…" he muttered and then looked at his mate, who he then swept into his arms and kissed passionately. The remaining squad shifted uneasily; not at the intimate contact, but at the fact that they were in possession of information that made them react in such a way.

"Our apologies," the female said, "but a new Era has begun. The Val Era. The Honoress and the Oracle finally bonded!"

"Val" sounded remarkably familiar to Victus.

* * *

Val woke up and noticed that she could sense the room around her, an ability she had not possessed before entering the legacy chambers with Ilus. It was not input that she received through her eyes and it was difficult to really describe her own sensations, but she had an image of her surroundings that seemed cast directly into her mind.

Ilus' markings and eyes slowly undimmed as he became aware of his surroundings with her. The first thing he thought to do was kiss her tenderly and lightly, not wanting to jump back into the heat so quickly. They both needed something to eat, and Val was wondering where he was planning on picking that up in this completely vacant cavern.

Val purred softly, her implants spreading deeper into her chest than she remembered, filling her with the combined texture of her and his purring. Their markings were dancing and flickering and communicating without requiring any conscious thought. Val shifted in her position so that her hands could cup his face and stroke the underside of his jaw, which was particularly sensitive.

"_Let us replenish our energy before we simply drop_," Ilus did not let up his kiss and spoke with his subvocals only.

Without using her primary vocal chords either Val replied, "_I agree. Please…_" they drew back from one another and Ilus popped out his bone clutches to let them down from their roost, setting her down on the ground gently. Val looked around and began to pick up her surroundings with her newfound sense. She saw landmarks; the bed, the location in which they had mated the previous day, the door leading out of the cave, the entrance and exit of the shallow stream of warm water.

She saw that there was another room off to one side made from flat angles and surfaces. There was some object in there that was yet too vague to make out. Oracle led her, hand possessively around her waist, into that room. Val was able to make out more and more detail as they drew closer.

Ilus froze as she walked herself to the table and sat down in one of the chair-looking things there. She was reminded that she was wearing nothing as the cool metal stung her skin.

"You can… see?"

"I can now."

"How many fingers am I holding up?" he tested without raising his hands at all, instead moving over to the cabinet-shaped surfaces and opened one up.

"You are holding up enough fingers to open that cabinet over there," Val rose and sauntered over to his side and pressed against him, feeling too cold and alone in her seat.

"Alright Coroswill have to look that over. For now, you can either sit down at the table or stay by my side."

"I would prefer to stay where I belong," she concluded and stood her ground, wrapping her arms around his waist and securing herself to him, her markings pulsed once and illuminated the surroundings in blue then amber when his responded.

He busied himself, pulling an assortment of ingredients from various locations. Val was able to read a few from his superconscious and responded accordingly to speed up the process so they could return to the relentless affirmation of their bind.

Ilus and Val prepared a classic; Tor'sen and two enormous cuts of Tarenov steak. Ilus and Val ate, surrounded by the glow of their markings and Ilus' wings, which unfolded like walls of fire to provide some actual lighting to their setting. After they were sated and refueled they cleared the table, excited to finally return to their mating for the duration of the day; or until they ran out of energy.

They practically dragged each other out of the smaller side room back into the main cavern and quickly began, conveniently without having to discard their clothing. They were ready, so they skipped directly to the mount. Ilus pulled Val onto his lap and allowed her to straddle him. She became wetter at the notion that he was giving her the control, trusting her to give him as much pleasure as herself.

Val had gotten used to his pelvals guiding his tip to her entrance, so she instead placed her hands on his face and returned to her ministrations of stroking and caressing the softer scales buried under the fringes and the jaw.

She lowered herself, knowing that he was perfectly angled to receive her, and allowed herself to be filled and stretched nearly to the point of tearing; the point just before it was too painful for pleasure. Ilus placed his hands on her waist and began to shift the two halves of her pelvis back and forth which seemed to allow her to spread even wider for him. She bit her lip when he sunk in as far as her body would accommodate and rubbed up against her cervix. He receded slightly so that their hips could meet.

Val leaned forward against his chest and relaxed as much as she could. Her Sicarian muscles could still be turned to mush by his hands and various armatures. He traced her markings carefully and lovingly and she his while they allowed her body some time to adjust.

Ilus drew his tongue along whatever skin happened to be within range, occasionally returning to her lips. He injected more ambrosia into her; once into the space between her belly button and waist, once into her chest close to the heart, once into her jugular, and finally by slipping his tongue into her mouth and down her throat a ways.

Ilus' plated sheath slipped free and pushed into her, each ring was another wave of fire into her core. He began to flare in waves and pulses, hundreds of small and smooth nail-like bones stroking her vagina and rubbing her clitoris. Val savored every moment, content to simply sit completely still and allow him to work her to completion with the combined force of his sheath, his hands, his purr, and his perfection as a mate.

Had she not had Sicarian muscle tissues Val would have been completely sore from head to feet. But that was a hypothetical situation she was glad she would never have to experience. So much time and so many position changes later and she was still just as energized and conditioned to continue. As was he.

Some of the positions they tried were crazy, only possible because of his extra support and the ability to lock his limbs. One found both of their bodies angled downwards, almost completely vertically, shoulder supported by his pectoral armatures, waist tightly controlled by his pelvals, and extra grip from the fibulals.

Like the previous day they sustained each other until they both ran out of energy at about the same time. Val checked her implanted holotool and promptly disbelieved the amount of time they had spent since beginning.

Ilus was careful when he carried her back to the bed. Val was not sure what she loved more; the mating or the way he held her.

When she opened her eyes the next morning she saw it: a dotting of tiny electric blue points scattered across his head underneath the fringes. His fringes lifted to allow her fingers to graze over the till tiny nubs of stone-like nubs that would eventually form a crest. But the way he was staring at her…

His finger traced a line across her face, where the skin felt slightly warmer. Her heartbeat began to climb as she came to a realization. Ilus darkened his markings completely so she could see that she was giving off his soothing amber light from markings that had formed on her face. In his eyes she could see a reflection of herself; the markings dipped from her hair line down her forehead. Lines ran along her cheeks and disappeared into her short hair.

She had taken his color; the final sign of connection between two Sicarians. She could not stop herself from crying and trilling and flaring in happiness.

* * *

She hated what she saw in the mirror. The face of a dead woman always sneered at her whenever she was forced to look into it. There were no longer any aspirations, hopes, or dreams.

She remembered the first time she had forgotten what Garrus' touch felt like. How she had attempted to recreate it in her mind, failed, and then broke down. She had gripped the talon until it was coated with her blood. Maybe if she bled enough, gave enough of her own life force, he would come back to her…

Shepard could remember a time when she had felt this alone and this isolated; she had fallen into a coma. But her work as Spectre had been all too distracting to allow for that to happen, so it was bottled up inside, worse than the death of her parents. At least now she he had a close circle of friends who could attempt to support her. Although, she supposed she was a lost cause at that point.

Currently Shepard was on the Citadel, forcefully removed from the ship with no name that she operated upon. Jole, Vialan, and Arterius had dragged her from her quarters and deposited her in the middle of the Citadel. She had checked into a hotel after being assaulted by reporters and fans who looked up to her as the first human Spectre. Too many people wanted things from her.

She supposed some of that golden reputation had been tarnished when not once, but twice had she grabbed a hold of the reporter's camera drone and slammed it to the ground without saying a word in response to the questions asked of her.

She could barely even make into the elevator without someone asking her to answer the same fucking question she had already answered a billion times: "what does it feel like to be the first Human Spectre?"

"If you like feeling dead inside like there's nothing keeping you alive."

Apparently that was not the correct answer the news was looking for, and they just kept asking until maybe one of her responses was the one that they thought people should hear.

Shepard had protested at first, but after their non-stop work against the various corrupted controlling forces that had the council in a vice-grip, she could use a rest. Only, it would be alone. Without Garrus. She would never get to have him back.

Arterius was currently visiting her, keeping her some company and making sure that she did not end up killing herself.

"I don't understand Saren," She sobbed softly. She had switched to using their first names on shore leave, where she was no longer a hardened and heartless commander to make up for how weak she was as a person, "I'm supposed to be able to move on because I am Human. Why can't I forget him?"

"You are different than most, Shepard. And I don't think that anyone, regardless of the species, would be able to move on from Garrus Vakarian. What he said to you… it would cut anyone so deep. You have to fall before you can stand up again Shepard."

"Oh Spirits, Saren, the last time I fell it was not nearly this hard and Garrus was there to pick me up. I don't expect to recover from this. Ever," she said sullen.

Arterius thought for a few moments before speaking quietly again.

"Have you ever considered the possibility that he is alive?"

Shepard looked up, tears in her eyes, and nodded. Imagining that he was alive was sometimes the only way she made it around bouts of melancholia.

"But I always end up concluding that he is dead. If he were alive, surely he would have sought me out by now."

Arterius rose, walked to her, and placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a light squeeze, and then left the room. They all trusted her not to do something completely stupid so she held off.

…

"Primarch," Garrus bit out, negativity spilling into his voice. He was irritated, but not at the Primarch.

"Garrus!" he gaped, "they told me you had awoken… It is wonderful to see you again brother," Primarch Victus tended to call him that; brother as in brother in arms. Victus gripped his wrist and exchanged a quick embrace with his brother in spirit, "I see your arm has been mended."

"Upgraded," Garrus clarified. The armor he wore was Sicarian-designed to fit around his new arm. He allowed it to peel apart and turn into the rifle with the holographic blade protruding long past the barrel. The Primarch recoiled accordingly.

"I am finally the machine that Alfa Dexteras has turned me into."

The Primarch's mandibles drooped in response to Garrus' comment, mostly from the guilt.

"I am going to the Citadel immediately, Primarch Victus. I am going to find Shepard, there is something I must know that only she knows."

"Garrus you realize this is subordination at the highest degree? I could have you killed for splitting from my command, even for a short period of time."

Garrus stared at the Primarch for a moment and then began to laugh.

"I am already dead. I will return to you either ruined beyond repair, or repaired beyond ruin," Garrus turned and stalked from the room.

A few minutes later Aliva walked in and gave him a quick hug.

"What is wrong with Garrus Ali?"

"Shepard she- she left him."

The Primarch growled in anger.

"Tell Garrus I take back what I said, he'll know what I mean. He has my permission to do as he pleases to resolve this."

Aliva Victus left the room to follow after her commander. If Garrus killed himself because of Shepard then Victus would kill Shepard without any hesitation or warning, Spectre status be damned. And it would not be quick and painless; no it would be the same torture to which she subjected Garrus.

* * *

Solana Vakarian awoke slowly unsure if the dream she thought she had was reality. The soft surface she was resting comfortably against shifted just slightly with her, allowing her to settle into a different, more relaxed position. She nuzzled the pillow slightly and buried her head into the warmth. She sighed a little, not too particularly ready to open her eyes and thrust herself into a new day at the base.

The base did not have beds this comfortable. And what the hell was pressing into her back? Before she opened her eyes to panic she felt a soft whisper into her mind, a calming soothing rushing noise from which feelings formed slowly. Safety, love, faithfulness, self-sacrifice, passion, tranquility…

Solana could remember exactly where she was now, and that what had happened, for better or for worse, had not been a dream. She opened her eyes and saw the yellow markings of his neck in front of her. He was purring with her. Only, he was also cooing like a Palavanian love bird.

And now that she was rested and wrapped up in his arms, there was only one thing that she wanted. Her hips twitched against his. He responded by releasing them from the bed and dropping to the floor in a smooth downward movement.

"Sol'an'a," he growled with all sets of subvocals backing up his voice, "By what means did the Lights bless you with such a fitting name? The embodiment of the essence of my being …" her name actually meant something? She opened her mouth to respond but he closed his lips over hers before she could get out a word.

"Bless me with the knowledge of where to touch you, Solana, your pleasure before mine" she noticed that he pronounced her name slightly differently that time, connecting all the syllables in one sweeping sound rather than shifting his vocals for each one. She growled.

"Only if you show me where to touch you, Telicos," she replied, a little bewildered that her plates were not gaping at this point.

"Anything you ask of me," he purred into her neck. The feel of his hand on hers was magical, as she was about to discover was the same with any part of his body. Just as her body was wrapped by his, so was her hand as the two thumbs closed over it and guided it. She took his other and directed it, following yet also taking the lead.

They learned each other quickly; he had responsive spots under the fringe and under the jaw. Eventually he moved lower and only then did he seem to notice her lack of breasts. So he did the next best thing and gently pried open the gaps of her plates to reach the sensitive skin beneath. She gasped and tilted her head back, eyes closed, which seemed to spur him on. From there he traveled lower. Solana continued to search around his scales for particularly sensitive spots. She found one at the back of his neck, and another on his back just under a slightly jutting spinal bone at the neck line.

Solana felt something pierce her skin, a pinching sensation underneath one of her abdominal plates. She pulled her head back to look and was surprised in many different ways to see that it was his tongue, and it was _yellow_, and what she guessed was maybe three quarters of a meter. She recoiled slightly and his tongue shot back into his mouth through a smaller sub-jaw that she had not noticed before.

She stared at him eyes wide and then began to relax, almost involuntarily, as the endorphins and nerve stimulants began to spread throughout her bloodstream, emanating from the point at which he had injected.

He looked ashamed however and halted all movements. She had probably ruined her chances. Solana should not have found a long tongue disgusting; longer tongues on Turian males were considered sexy and his tongue was _really_ long. She guessed it was the shock that it was so oddly colored and _fanged_.

"I…I-" he stammered. Solana quieted him be resting her forehead against his. The concoction of potions that he had injected into her were certainly working.

"I've never seen anything quite like that before… it was just a little shocking, please continue" she rumbled, trying to reassure him with her subvocals. She kissed him again, only this time when he tentatively maneuvered his tongue into her mouth to mingle with hers she lightly bit down on it and wrapped hers tightly around the tip. She drew her head back and pulled his tongue with her, keeping her hand on his jaw to stop his head from advancing.

"Mmm," she purred and released the long prehensile member so she could examine it. He seemed to sense her thoughts and left his tongue out for her examination. Three fangs at the tip were buried into the tender flesh. The more she stared the more she forgot that it was actually a part of his body. She returned her attentions to his lips. She quite enjoyed the Sicarian style of kissing.

When the slicked member swiped up her neck and under her jaw to a mandible she had to whimper.

"It is a combination of nerve stimulants and endorphins to enhance sensations," he murmured into her lips, "I thought you may wish to know."

"Spirits, that wasn't even sexy and it was still sexy," she gasped as his tongue continued to explore her with a mind of its own. Telicos rumbled against her in a laugh. Solana constantly forgot that he was capable of humor when he spoke so formally.

"Solana, can we be sure that we are… compatible?" he shifted his hips against hers. The scales down there were slick all the way up to his abdomen.

"I have no idea. Are Sicarians… Tab-A slot-b?"

"Tab-A…" he trailed off trying to figure out what she meant then suddenly realizing, "working from the assumption that I am in possession of the… tab-a, then yes."

She sighed in relief.

"Then what are you waiting for?"

He grinned and then slid her upwards and applied the full the length of that tongue to her slit, which promptly shot open, revealing her core. He made a surprised noise with his supervocals, which sounded like a bird's trill. Solana let her own trill of surprise fly. The contact was suddenly so much more intimate, if such a thing was even possible.

Solana was filled with anticipation as the full force of the realization dawned on her that here and now she was going to experience her first time with an alien. It occurred to her that there would be nothing to compare it against with the exception of mere descriptions.

His jaw was jammed into the space between her legs, the split applying surprising amounts of force to spread her open. That tonue slithered inside her, finding all the places that made her squirm.

The chest armatures locked around her waist, clamping her slit to his face and forcing her to stay still as her back arched. His tongue had discovered her clitoris and was sliding its length over it. She whimpered as he dove inside her, brushed up against her limit, turned around and came back out. She was gushing against him now, ready. For good measure he sliced into her sensitive skin with his fangs and flooded her with liquid pleasure.

"Lights you smell and taste like a delicacy, Cor'a," he exclaimed in a moistened purr.

Solana was not about to let him get away that easily, and pushed herself down to his slit to work on it. She pressed her lip plates against the skin and opened her jaw, applying friction. Her tongue, miniscule in comparison to his, slipped out and passed from one end of the seam to another. The amount of lubricant on his end augmented and began to coat her face. She drew back when his seam opened up. She was unable to catch a glimpse of him before she was dragged back up his slickened scales and invaded by his tongue which was had begun to freely gush the ambrosia. Solana lapped at it and suckled the tip of his tongue eagerly, savoring his taste.

Those armatures on his hips slipped inside her and pulled apart slightly, which made her buck. His hands were firmly grasping her hips and working them back and forth, massaging and relaxing to prepare her. She jolted with his tip made contact with her labia and arched her back when began to sink into her. The grooves on his penis and the thick coating of lubricant from both of them allowed him to slide initially with ease.

Solana threw her head back as she was split apart, divided wider than she ever could have thought possible. Telicos moved slowly and filled her centimeter by centimeter, tearing her virginity into shreds. He stopped shoving his member deeper when it made contact with her cervix. Solana opened her eyes and looked at him, stunned by the markings that were now brightly lit underneath the scales. She watched the orbs that where his eyes shift back and forth a few times and glow brightly. His fringes had lifted up and expanded membranes between them like a crown.

Then she looked down. There was no space between their hips but she could see the dermal protrusion that he was producing. She gingerly touched the skin affected by his girth and he awarded her with a purr.

They were frozen in that position while she expanded and adjusted. He nuzzled her neck and injected some more of his ambrosia, spreading waves of pleasure around her body to dim the pain. The sheer number of armatures that he had allowed him to touch her everywhere at once and make her squirm around him.

So far sex felt really goddamn painful.

Then she noticed another set of muscles contract in his waist. His hands circled to the back of her head and massaged beneath her fringe. He pulled her mouth the juncture between his neck and shoulders and then shifted. Solana could feel the muscles contract and ripple and something _else_ began to push into her. There was more?

She could not see a single thing but she could feel _everything_. It was like another layer was sliding into her, making his already filling girth even thicker. But there were hundreds of little bumps and ridges that she could feel sliding into her by rings. And finally, she felt pleasure, even if it was mostly pain. The additional layer slid all the way to the tip and the stopped.

And flared in a wave that overrode all of the pain in an instant. Solana had been relatively quiet up until this point. A guttural moan dripped from her mouth and into his. His markings flared in a wave from head to groin and seemed to signal another wave of whatever the hell was covering his penis.

_Everything_ was stimulated. And he was not even moving his hips nor she hers. He would finish her off by doing what he was doing and nothing more.

Solana was barely aware that her impregnation pheromones were off the charts and figured that he was not compatible either way so she did nothing to stop them. If anything they made her slicker and allowed him to fit with less pain. He kept up his wave-like pulsating and then finally gave a shallow thrust. Her hips jerked and she noticed the golden colored blood mixed with blue that streamed from her and his slit.

He retracted the entire sheath, fully flared, along with his hips and then pushed everything back in. Solana gasped and her pupils dilated. The pleasure had finally arrived. Finally. And it was blinding.

He began thrusting slowly, gently, and methodically. She was able to catch a glimpse of the sheath as it retracted, hundreds of little bone-like diamond plates all erect around him. They moved out of her with a zipping noise, grinding all possible pleasure centers, and then plowed back in.

Eventually, she was able to gather herself enough to thrust back. The amount of pleasure she was receiving was about to black her out. His forehead was glued to her hears as their hips rolled and shifted in perfect unison.

Solana lost track of time and bit into the scales on his neck, claiming him.

Until finally, Telicos gave one final thrust, slamming into her limit. She felt a sudden rush of emptiness in her abdomen, like there was ice in her stomach, then an overwhelming wave of pleasure. Just before she blacked out from the overload she was able to feel him slam into her much, _much_ farther than he had before. His sheath found purchase on something and latched on, seeming to lock her and pull her hips again his forcefully.

She awoke an hour later pressed against the bed and Telicos. He was purring and cooing and gently caressing her fringes and waist. His lips were pressed against her forehead and his tongue was lazily tracing over her markings. His, of course, were undulating and pulsating slowly.

A wet sensation alerted her to the fact that he was still buried inside her. But something felt entirely too strange. He was too far inside her. Another cool wave of something deep inside of her abdomen caused her to try and roll her hips, but they were currently completely and utterly clamped down by Telicos' lock inside her.

"You guys knot?"

"When our bodies strive to impregnate our mate's, then we knot to ensure successful insemination. It can last a few hours."

"A few hours…"

"I apologize, Solana."

"Please don't. You made me black out from pleasure; that automatically means you don't have to apologize. Turians do that also, so I might as well relax."

"I could move us to the shower in which we could lay and allow the knot to disentangle," he suggested. Solana nodded against his neck and felt him shift. He moved so smoothly that the tender skin stretched around his phallus was not disturbed.

He switched on the warm water with a wave of his hand and glanced at her for confirmation that the water was warm enough. She simply nodded and allowed the water to cascade upon her and wash all of the trauma from the escape away from her. His arms, strong and corded and running with those markings, wrapped around her legs and hooked them around his waist. The armatures on his the backs of his calves, almost like Turian spurs, gripped her lower legs and supported them comfortably. His wing armatures propped them up in a reclined position so she could relax. How he had the muscle strength to support them in this way was beyond her, but she found his strength to be a major turn-on.

She twitched a little at the wet sensation as he continued to fill her periodically with small waves of fluids.

Solana was still tired and could not help but fall back asleep under his careful ministrations.

When she woke up again they were back against the bed, he cradled her with his body. She felt full still and looked down between her legs. There were definitely not connected by the knot any longer. Solana grazed a finger along her slit to assess the damage, surprised to find that everything was completely healed. No soreness, no ache, no cracked plates. She assumed that he had used some kind of healing gel to repair some of the damage done to her. And him if his blood had been anything to go by. She let her eyes drift back closed again, consumed by his unique and calming scent. But that feeling of fullness persisted.

When she woke up Telicos was staring intently at her, shock written on his face, subvocals rumbling to back it up and mandibles twitching erratically.

"Mmm… what's wrong love?"

He simply stared into her eyes. He took her hand in his and guided it to her stomach. She could feel the slightest irregularity underneath her skin. A protrusion that disrupted the muscle just enough to feel it through the skin. She stared back. She stared deep.

All the while his hand kept ghosting over her stomach wistfully.

* * *

^ :O ^


	29. Forged by Fire

Ilus and Val fondly the Nostrom legacy chambers and returned to the Sicarian world. Three days had passed just like Ilus had predicted, and his crest was growing almost fast enough to watch the changes go by. They both knew that within another day he would have a full crest of her unique color. And she would develop a set of markings in his unique amber color.

Her mostly-altered eyes had no problem adjusting to the bright of day instantly. They had donned metal crests that would cover up most of their developing markings. They had agreed that revealing the information at this point during the war would be risky and likely an unwelcomed distraction to Sicarians.

Protocol called for a planet wide-celebration, but that protocol was over nine thousand years old, and they both agreed that it was a little cliché for this age. Ilus insisted, however, that the end of one Era and the beginning of another definitely merited some kind of announcement.

Ilus reveled in how he could touch her and be completely familiar with the way her skin and muscles gave under his fingers. Her body had not necessarily been all that foreign to him, the vast wealth of information documented from the autopsies of her parents told him everything technical. However, it was the emotions and the practices that he was unfamiliar with; it was knowing how she would respond given any location he made contact with her.

"Have I told how much you mean to me?" he asked knowing her response before she opened her mouth.

"Only every second of every day," she smiled and snuggled into his arms. Only, she felt like she was pulling him into hers and not the other way around. As his mate, it was her job to protect him. She was the killer in the relationship. She felt compelled to take action to make sure she could fill out that role to the best of her ability because she would never be able to bear Ilus any children. However, that was all overlooked because of his position as Oracle.

Ilus; it felt wonderful to think of him with a name and not an object. He was an individual now.

He pulled her back to his chest and flared his wings. He was amazingly strong; his wings were powerful enough to raise them from the ground from a standstill with a single and coursing downward swoop. Another and they rose into the air higher still. After the third they started to move forward. They were to be picked up midflight by Tare'an and taken back to command to continue directing war efforts, and continue to attempt peaceful accords.

The dropship appeared over the mountains and Ilus directed them towards it, flying faster and faster. Val had not noticed the huge rings on the underside of the craft until Ilus grappled onto one of them using a radial and swing into the open cargo bay.

"I wish I had wings with which to fly…" she muttered, irritation affecting her subvocals and superconscious.

"I do not. Then I would be unable to hold you so close. We would both focus more on the flying and staying connected than the proximity and the trust. I know you know that the amount of trust you place in me when we soar is a turn-on."

Val had never quite considered it that way, but in so many cases it would be simpler if she were completely Sicarian. Her condition had allowed her to grow and evolve faster than normal humans, as her body still thought it was developing, but she was simply unable to change the more complex aspects of herself.

"They will know, Val," he said softly. Val was able to pick the rest of the statement off from his superconscious. Any Sicarian that so much as looked at them would know they were bonded, so they had to tread carefully. The publicity was not something they wanted to face. They would have to be shuttled into command and bypass as many people as possible.

But first they had to meet with Coros as they had promised. Ilus' recovery merited some medical research which may or may not find a way to ease or eliminate the pain of Repressive Overload.

* * *

The entire squad was in a bad mood because of their Commander's condition. They could feel his pain and his distresses washing onto them even when he was not in the room with them. They were tied by Alfa Dexteras like family members. Even Krios was could feel the agitation and he was not Turian.

All three pairs became increasingly afraid to show affections to each other in the presence of their Commander in the fear that he might be reminded of what he had lost. They had to resort to sparring which was not nearly as effective as sex, and tensions began to increase. All this on the few day's journey to the Citadel.

Alfa Dexteras surpassed Spectre clearance by far, but the council would never know that. The Turian embassy had a special branch specifically dedicated to Alfa Dexteras arrivals and managing their presence on the station. For the most part, when Alfa Dexteras was anywhere but _gone_, they had a target. It was the job of the receivers to make sure that the squad had a clear path towards that target because if it was dirty… there tended to be more collateral damage than necessary.

When they found out who it was through some heavily encrypted code-talk transmissions they made especially certain that the Citadel was prepared for them.

Their craft docked at one of the two docks in permanent reserve among the Turian array for Alfa Dexteras arrivals. They had managed to track down exactly where one Commander Shepard was currently staying on shore leave. Garrus had to be forcefully reminded that she was a Spectre which meant that she had all kinds of clearance and protection. But Victus had torn into every server she could find for the information they were looking for and found it, of course. Theirs was a mission that determined the life of death of their Commander to whom they owed everything.

Had Garrus not been the one to lead their squad when they first met one another, they would be nowhere near as powerful or unified as they were. If he was truly dead, they would all be affected for the rest of their lives; even when he was in a coma they could feel his presence guiding them. Victus especially had made a connection to the extent that Krios could tell when he was close to her.

They all wanted to leave their ship with Garrus but he denied them permission. He refused to let them near Shepard no matter what happened. He wanted her to be happy even if it was not with him. Victus, on the other hand, told the only lie she ever had in her life and assured him that she would make sure that the squad followed his orders. Krios had immediately caught her lie and warned her about it in privacy. Victus was prepared to live with the guilt.

Garrus had managed to retrieve Shepard's possible location on her last day of allotted shore leave. According to Spectre reports from her and another Spectre onboard her ship they had racked up quite the impressive résumé. They were just as efficient as Garrus' squad and had taken down their share of potential terrorist cells and business empires.

Garrus picked his way through the crowd of many races, conspicuous in his jet black armor which stood out against the lighter values of C-Sec blue, civilian clothing, and alloy walkways. Heads turned upwards. Garrus was quite tall for a turian and stood over most. There were taller, however, they were very unusual.

He noticed some muttering going around from primarily Turians when they noticed the lack of a keel bone and noticeably reduced cowl on his armor. They all knew that he was a killer; "normal" Turians did not dedicate themselves so adamantly by removing parts of their bodies. It was also a right earned; a ground off keel bone was a mark of extreme proficiency; only those who passed training of the highest order were given access to the removal procedure.

He stalked into the hotel Shepard was reportedly checked into and stormed past the receptionist who cowered even when he did not know what was really going on. Simply the imposing and deadly aura that Garrus projected was enough to cause anyone to shy away, avert their eyes, pretend like they had not noticed in case they might become a target.

He ascended the elevator to her floor, one of the upper ones. She was staying in a quite spacious suite. And despite years and years of constant training and experience, his heart still began to beat faster, unable to be controlled.

His arm was so much more than just an arm. It was an entire weapons and sensor system in the shape of an arm. It could tell him that the room was currently unoccupied and even give him a holographic layout of the interior. It hacked into the door lock and allowed him access.

Once he stepped in he was surrounded by her scent. He froze in the small entryway and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. He could smell others there which made him scowl and his heart sink. Another Turian male and another human male. And a Turian female? Kinky. Something was telling him that these "visitors" of hers were not romantic; there was no stench of sex.

He stifled his own growl and walked further into the suite, which was completely dark with the exception of a small warm light on one of the nightstands. Even with his eyes closed the neural interlace kept the holographic image of his surrounding persistent in his mind on his command. It was like a less abrasive version of sight. He continued to inhale deeply and drown his senses with her scent.

He approached her bed, which was perfectly made. He was afraid to disrupt it because he could feel her presence there affecting the air around them. He wanted to keep things undisturbed. So he waited for her there, knowing that she would come back to sleep and pack her things before shipping out the next day. He heaved a breath out through his nostrils and removed his chest piece and helmet.

The biometric sensor on his arm alerted him that there was a being approaching the room, but he did not need it to know. He could feel her. His heartbeat began to rise until his vital monitor was giving him warnings as he heard the door click softly open.

* * *

Shepard had done nothing that day except leave her room to spend some time with her squad mates out on the citadel like a normal human on shore leave. She was just anxious to return to her apartment, pack her shit and then get to sleep so she could dive headfirst back into forgetting everything that once made her. She was getting better at it; day by day she was becoming less and less like the Shepard she had been and more like the creature she had to be.

She froze in the hallway as she stepped out from the elevator. Something smelled familiar. So familiar that her eyes began to well up as if a part of her remembered something that the rest of her did not. She could smell it more and more as she strode towards her door.

The bloodied talon which she had stopped bothering to wash began to sting on her chest. She ripped it from her neck and clenched it in her hand as hard as she could, adding another cut to the already growing arsenal of scars she had from cutting herself with it, either by accident or by intent.

She held her keycard in front of the reader, the hairs on her skin standing up. She readied her pistol but prepared not to use it.

The lock on the door released and allowed her entry into her room. She took a few steps into the darkness and froze mid stride when she made out the silhouetted form against the lights of the Citadel wards.

She stared for a few moments, idly slicing her palm open once more with the talon clenched in her hand. She could recognize that stance anywhere.

Shepard's body went limp and she sank back against the wall, eyes wide with shock staring blankly. She had walked into her afterlife and found him waiting there. She was almost too happy for words, but how would he respond when the last thought he had of her was betrayal?

Her throat was already completely dry as she tried to speak. She kept her gaze averted from the shadow standing at the other end of the room. The last time she had attempted to communicate with him he had died. If she lost him here, then he was really truly gone forever.

"G-" she coughed "Garrus?"

Silence

"Please respond?" she tried already on the verge of tears. No amount of cruelty and coldness as a commander could save her from her weaknesses as a desperate lover.

More silence. Shepard bowed her head into her knees and cried quietly to herself. If this was a dream or she really was dead then any actions she took were only arbitrary. In her private world she was allowed to appear this way.

Her eyes snapped open when she felt a talon on the underside of her jaw, lifting up slightly. She was staring directly into Garrus' eyes. They were unmistakably his even though most of his face was completely dark.

"Spirits Ada it's good to see you again."

Shepard had to clench her teeth to keep her jaw sobs inside. That was his voice. But it was all completely fake. She reminded herself over and over that this was nothing more than a dream.

"I might as well cut to the chase," Garrus said and drew away, pulled most of her spirit with him. She could feel the blood begin to seep through her civilian pants. He took her palm into his and applied cooling gel to it. He had both of his arms. This was a dream. A dream and nothing more.

"I came back," from the dead, "because I need to know with certainty that you've moved on with someone else. I don't blame you Shepard; I'm a Turian. I could never give you what a human could. I only want you to be happy. Please tell me, it is the last thing I'll ask of you in my life," she felt his other hand move to the pistol and wrap her hand around the trigger. She tried to fight back, pull the gun away from him, but he was to strong. He was forcing her to aim the pistol at him. One shot would kill instantly… but he was already dead and this was a dream, "have you?"

Shepard shook her head and no words came out. She could only shake her head and sob to summarize the kind of slow torture she had undergone for years now.

Garrus stared blankly. Maybe he just needed to give her some time to speak. He assumed that she was shaking her head in disbelief that he was there in the first place. But until then he liberally interpreted her answer as the no she meant it to be and moved back in to her personal space. She smelled only of Shepard and no one else. She was still his.

He released the gun from its position and it clattered onto the floor.

He was hit with the cold realization that she had never moved on or attempted to.

"Oh Spirits… Ada… I misread things. And the statement I left you with… Oh Spirits," he groaned. He could recall the last thing he had said to her was the worst possible thing to hear from someone before they died. Shepard would have to explain the details, but he knew with complete certainty that she had never strayed from him, even when she _knew_ he was dead. His vitals had completely flat lined so she would definitely have assumed that he was dead.

He could see how broken she was and his heart snapped. Garrus was consumed by the need to comfort her and make her forget all of her pain and misery: a mate's instinct. Garrus trapped her to him with his arms, forgetting that one was now a prosthetic. He reignited everything with a brush of the foreheads, a graze of the lips, then a meeting of the tongues.

Shepard allowed herself to be carried throughout this fallacy. She may as well enjoy it to the best of her ability. She drowned in his scent and melted at his touch and things started to become too real to be a dream.

His knees pushed between her legs and under her bottom and he lifted her onto his waist snugly. He deepened the kiss. He missed everything about the feel of her in his arms. She had been bleeding and he could smell her blood still, even after applying the medigel. He pulled away and used the in-built IR array in his arm to see what exactly the situation was.

His mandibles drooped a little when he saw what the problem was.

"Ada… Oh dear Spirits," he whispered as he traced the short parallel scars that covered her palm and ran up her elbow. He pulled the sleeve of her shirt back and the array of short, vertical marks continued. He noticed that they were only on her left arm and not the right. He noticed just how bloodied the talon was. Her blank stare persisted.

"Ada," he tried, now he was the one trying to coax a response from her, "Ada look at me," she seemed to hunch over even father and refused to meet his gaze. The reading he was getting from the neural lace told him that she was showing patterns of denial. Damn arm was like cheating at life. But that helped come to the understanding quickly that she did not believe anything that was happening. Garrus would imagine that the last thing she expected was to see him walk back in after dying.

"Ada I'm so sorry that I left you the way I did-"

Her eyes finally snapped to his.

"How can you really be apologizing to me? What the hell is wrong with you?" Garrus waiting calmly for her to clarify her loaded question, "I was the one who betrayed you. It is _my_ _fault_ that you… died. I watched your arm…" she coughed and heaved and tried to hold back something, "I watched you die slowly Garrus."

"I would have been shot either way Ada…" that probably was not the best thing for him to say, but he wanted her not to blame herself. There was nothing she could have done.

"How could you have known that? If you had been so shocked that I… I _cheated_ on you, then you may have noticed the fucking sniper!"

"Did you cheat on me Ada?"

She looked away again, immediately silenced.

"I didn't mean for things to happen the way they did," she muttered, "I was too fucking stupid to notice when he turned from a friend into a friend who wanted to fuck me."

Garrus' brow plates, dipped as he thought. Ada was quite dense and she was an extreme flirt, but she had been isolated from him for years and would mostly likely have found someone similar to him to keep her company while she waited. She still had the talon, which was a sign that at least now she wanted him around.

"Did you-"

"Were you listening?" she spat, Garrus took it just as calmly as he had before, refusing to let her out of his grasp, refusing to let her snappy attitude diminish his purr, "I didn't let him into my pants. But it doesn't matter because I may as well have…"

"No. You had your right mind to remember me and cut things off. My temporary incapacitation was sheer happenstance… it was not your fault, it was not some kind of karmic retribution for anything. I am apologizing to you because I was an idiot. I should not have misconstrued things the way I did and tell you what I did. Turians don't fare well with separation from their… mates. I was running on anxieties and paranoia that maybe you had left me for someone more eligible."

"More eligible!" she shouted angrily, "You think there is a being left in this galaxy that is _more eligible _than you are?"

"I can't-"

Shepard intercepted his question and responded before he could finish asking.

"The _only_ thing you can't give me is children, Garrus. The _only thing_."

"That's a pretty big deal…"

She huffed. Shepard had quickly accepted that this was reality. For that he was proud of her.

"Your arm," she gingerly stroked his left arm through the under suit, "God and Spirits I'm going to make those fuckers pay for what they did to you," she bit out angrily. Garrus flinched, the irony was not lost on him. He was not allowed to tell her anything about the make of the prosthesis because it was secured under Alfa Dexteras protocol along with a lot of other tech.

"Let me see it," she had obviously picked up on the fact that his arm was a prosthetic limb. He unhooked their bodies to a sound of protest from Shepard, and brightened the room lights. Her eyes were glued to his frame, preparing for the worst. She was confused, because the profile of the limb beneath the skin-tight under suit was no different from the one on the right.

Shepard halted him when he began to take off his under suit and stepped into her personal space. She removed the upper layer herself slowly. Garrus was extremely hesitant. She would find him ugly, disfigured. He was half machine; that was not necessarily something he wanted her to discover and reject him for. But she wanted to see him so he would obey.

He stepped back once the under suit had been removed and tried to cover himself. She gawked at the metal interlaces into his plates. They were cleanly and looked like they belonged to his plates. Her eyes slowly traced down the arm, finding all sorts of thin alloy grooves amongst what appeared to be his natural skin. It was the nicest possible prosthetic she had ever seen, and without a doubt the metal that fought and interwove with his pates made him look like an utter bad-ass.

"Spirits I'm a freak," he muttered. Shepard said nothing as she marveled the work of machinery, commending silently whoever it was that created this gift for him. She touched the skin of his palm and it was the same feel as before. Shepard studied the map of small seams that wove around his skin, but his arm remained just as familiar and alive as she remembered. They had even replaced his markings upon the skin, simulated the muscle cords beneath, and shaped it perfectly to match the other.

Garrus opened his mouth to speak but stopped himself. Shepard took the hand in hers and kissed the palm. It even smelled and tasted the same. She knew he was still reluctant to believe that she was accepting his standing there as reality.

"You really are back," she finally said, lips to the soft skin that the keel bone would normally have covered. He felt like it was sacrilege to touch her with the prosthesis but he did anyway and he could really feel her in all her silken glory. And he could feel it every time she laid a finger on his skin. It was as if his arm was never gone.

Garrus plucked her left arm away from her and examined it. Vertical scars, about three centimeters in length each ran up her the inside of her arm beginning at the wrist and traveling _all the way _up her arm. He shucked off her shirt and saw that they continued to permeate her chest on the left side. This was completely his fault.

"Ada, why…" he trailed off, his subharmonics were wavering with intensity.

"Damn it, Garrus," she muttered, "I feel guilty, weak, unstable. Losing you like that was so much worse that losing my parents and I don't know why. I haven't been able to really cry out my emotions until now," her voice was watery.

"Garrus?"

"Hm?" he purred, content to simply hold her.

"Would I be asking too much of you to…" she trailed off, his cheating-at-life device told him she was feeling apprehension and embarrassment. He did not, however, need the array to notice that she was turning quite red.

"It appears we are both a little unfamiliar on the protocol for reunions. So please," he switched off their translators reminiscent of their first time together, hoping she would catch the hint, "may I?" was the last thing he spoke to her. She nodded and leaned back against him. He made to dim the lights again but she stopped him.

"I have to see you," she said. Garrus simply nodded and welcomed her back into his arms where she belonged. Shepard let her knees go weak with anticipation of him. Six and half years of waiting. She was being given a second chance and she was not going to waste it.

They both missed each other more that they could properly express, and the comfort they found in one another put all the time spent apart into perspective. They were both afraid to touch each other, afraid they might break the other, or that the other might vanish before their eyes. Garrus was still shocked nearly beyond breath at the extent to which Shepard had harmed herself because of him.

Garrus removed her bra and was unable to look away from the scars. He supposed she was doing the same, too fixated on the damage dealt to notice the beauty of the rest of him. The moment their skin made intimated contact, however, his pacing went out the window and he was filled with an urge to take her immediately. To mark her as his, even though she had already done that for him. To make sure she was safe, even though she would go back into the field the following day and face death in every moment.

They worked each other out of their clothing quickly enough to be considered desperate. They _were_ desperate by all accounts. They needed to be together for as long as possible, because once they separated again, it would be for another indeterminately long period of time.

Shepard's scent grew stronger in his nostrils. His marking scent was heavy on her as well, and he could see the effects begin to have their effects on her. Her whole body began to relax and moisten in preparation for him.

Their hips bumped and that was all it took for Garrus to pop out from between his plates and grind between her folds enticingly without entering. He sunk to his knees and pulled her legs around his waist so that her feet rested behind them. This position was the Turian missionary; stable, intimate, very relaxing. Before he tore her sensitive waist to shreds with his plates, he administered some medi-gel in preparation to the area which was still wonderfully bare. She shivered and he held her tighter with his right arm.

Shepard wrapped her hand around him, the pressure causing him to groan as he kissed her. He thrust lightly into her hand as it slid down his penis to the base, running over every ridge and bump. She guided him to her entrance, sat up slightly and sunk down onto his tip. A sharp gasp escaped both of them at the sudden and wonderful contact.

Garrus had no choice but to wrap both of his arms around her and hold her against him. He could feel her perfectly through the prosthesis. He helped lower her slowly, not wanting to let her overwork herself this early.

Shepard sank down, relishing the feelings of pain and pleasure from being stretched and filled by him. She missed being this close to him with an unrivaled profundity, and she craved him. She let her muscles go limp and allowed Garrus to pull her down until their hips met. He grazed her limit with a satisfyingly painful pressure.

Garrus' mind was blanking out with all of the sensations. He had quite forgotten how it felt to be enveloped completely by her and massaged relentlessly by her inner muscles. She was so tight that he felt as if they were one being and that she was reluctant to let go. He leaned forward on his knees slightly, elevating his angle just so to make her gasp out.

Garrus pushed his hips upwards and then dropped them down, pulling out a little. Shepard lingered then slid down and moaned softly in pleasure as their hips met once again. They were both in control of the pace.

Shepard eventually began to push him for more and he obliged; rolling them out of the current position and pinning her to the floor, keeping her hips elevated to his. Her legs constricted around his waist. They were promptly lost to their desperation.

Shepard was consumed in all kinds of fire; welcomed to the fullest extent because she needed to feel both the pleasure and pain to feel complete. She had the vaguest thought that her lower body would be chaffed; the medigel and Garrus' anomalously smooth plates would ease that somewhat but it would not completely eliminate it. But it was completely worth it.

The depravation made her lest longer; and it appeared to make him last _much_ longer. She allowed him to continue to pound into her even after she had reached her full capacity for exertion, exhausted and covered in sweat and lubricant, and fell limp and incoherent to the repeated drives from her insatiable mate.

When he finally finished she jolted when he sank his teeth into her neck. Really far. And it was really painful, but she was too taken to care, because now she would have a scar that legitimately belonged to him and marked her as his.

Shepard had something that he could take with him. She did not remember what had driven her to ever to make or hold onto it after she had watched him die. But when she woke up the next morning consumed by his presence, she would remember and return a promise that she should have long before.

* * *

"I… I-I'm…" Solana stuttered. She started to hear a whisper in her head that sounded like happiness, warmth, family, and closeness that was powerful enough for her to notice. Her apparent shock at such a thing was apparently affecting him because his mandibles began to droop and his eyes to dim.

"Oh Lights, please forgive me Solana. I should have made it known before we mated that you were… with the intention of conceiving a child," he looked extremely nervous, like one wrong word from her would kill him, "and… now your body is telling me that you are carrying our child, love. Our son."

A son. Solana was stunned to the point of silence. She had not expected children this early, let alone ever with the rate at which potential partners were disappearing. Let alone _with an alien_. She was trying to think of the ramifications for her future. No, _their_ future. If there was one thing that Sicarians seemed to be all about was dedication to their mates, and she would be damned if she did not live up to their standards. She was a Turian, a pretty damned good Turian, and she would see this through. She loved him; she knew even without knowing anything about his background that he would be an amazing father to their child.

A son.

That was the aspiration of every Turian couple, traditionally at least. It meant that the family had a line carrier, one to bring some lucky female into the family. But the optimal situation was a son and a daughter, because that meant one to pass on the line and another to spread the family into another.

But their son would be a hybrid. For Turians mating outside of the race was a huge problem, and usually placed every social stigma known onto the family and the individuals engaged. As much as she was not ashamed of her connection to Varist, she thought it would be best if they kept their family secret and safe from the world. For now.

Varist nodded in agreement. Solana checked herself, she had not said any of that out loud.

"Though it wrings my heart cords to see our family hidden in this way, I am afraid we must cover this miracle until it can be accepted by others."

"How did you-"

"I can feel your thoughts be reading your nervous system. I can also communicate back to," he explained. She was filled that comforting whisper again and had to sigh in pleasure.

"Anything else that you can do that makes me want nothing but you?"

"I am certain something will come up… and we will just have to experience it together."

"You _always_ say the right thing? How do you _always_ do that?

"I do believe I have a few unfair advantages…" he hummed.

"So… I'm pregnant," Solana said it and tried to accept it. Not only should it not even be possible for them to successfully procreate, but it had only been _one day_.

"The gestation period for Sicarian infants in the womb from conception until birth is about… ten… days," he trailed off.

Solana stared blankly for a second then focused on his gaze. It was funny how she could tell when his attention was fully directed at her even when there were no pupils there.

"That's…um… eight months is the Turian average."

His eyes widened in response, as if that were so impossibly long that he could not even imagine that period of time in one thought. He stowed any kind of surprised and possibly ignorant question, trusting his better judgment that they would simply deal with their situation as partners bound.

"Shall we proceed with the day then?"

"Yeah."

Varist let them down from their perch and set her gingerly on the floor as if she were about to break. She took it in stride and tolerated his overly protective behavior. It would be normal of any Turian male with a pregnant mate.

He put on a fresh set of clothing and frowned when he noticed that she had to put on the same dirty clothing from yesterday. He motioned to her garments, took them from her, then stuck them into a machine. A second later he pulled them out and they were completely clean. So clean that they may as well have been new. She accepted them back and put them on.

"Please Cor'a, there is someone I must contact about this. She will know what to do. She always has," Solana went on the defensive hearing him speak about another woman. He rumbled a chuckle and kissed her softly on the mandible.

"I will explain our ways when we have more time Cor'a, hopefully I will assuage your fears of another potential mate interfering. Not that any woman could surpass you in any way," he purred. She purred back.

He engaged his omni-tool, which had a completely three-dimensional full color and resolution display, and swiped a few patters until he seemed content.

* * *

Val and Ilus had been scanned to hell and back by Coros, who found some particular DNA clusters in Ilus that could mean great potential medical advancement, which would mark the first major discovery in the past few millennia. Coros gave himself time to work on the various anomalies present with the two and they were dismissed. He left them with quite positive and uplifting comment.

"_Val_, you are showing signs of developing proper impregnation pheromones. Now, that does not necessarily mean that you two can conceive, but it is quite possible given your changes here, and the way your brain works. So when the time comes, it is up to you to decide."

They were light headed and happy after their visit. They returned promptly to oversee the war efforts and eventual peace accords. Nothing really changed day to day.

Until, of course, she received a call from one of her former students.

"Salutations, Honoress."

"Is that… Telicos Varist?" she replied, shocked that after so many years of silence he had decided to contact her. She had kept tabs on her students' progress and percentiles. Varist's percentile had shot way up during the war because of his mastery of technology and undiscovered proficiency for CQC.

"Telicos!" she exclaimed happily when the 3D holo of his face appeared on her holotool; "Lights above how have you been little one?"

* * *

"_Val_, please refrain from calling me 'little one'," Telicos gave Solana an amused glance, but she was too focused on the fact that he had referred to this woman as _Val_. The language on her translator told her it had been _English_. There was only Val she knew, but there was _no way _who he was speaking was the same.

"Alright… little one," Solana heard the reply and grinned a little. Telicos was smiling.

"I will take the liberty to remind you that you are but three years older than I," Solana was a little shocked by this. Who then hell was this woman?

"You will always be my little one," she paused, "is there something you wish to speak about?"

"I contacted you for some advice. I have found a mate and she is with our child. Our son," she cut him off my exclaiming excitedly with her subvocals.

"Oh congratulations!" the woman exclaimed, "With what do you need my advice? You shall be a perfect father, and your mate a perfect mother," Solana had to blush a little at that. Varist looked upon her and she could feel the pride trickle down her spine like warm water.

* * *

"My mate: She is not… a Sicarian," he sounded quite hesitant. Val could tell then he was being completely honest with her and her entire demeanor shifted to serious as she began to contemplate all of the implications and necessary precautions to keep them safe. She immediately began to arrange for their transferal. Coros was going to guard them like a _tareval_. This was impossible… but she was prepared to believe anything after the way her life had turned out.

"Varist… you know that you can trust me with this information," she said soundly. She was already pushing orders for his release as his mate's. She would send Tare'an to go and retrieve them personally.

"Of course Honoress."

* * *

"Would you be willing to introduce me?" Solana heard the voice ask and tensed up. Varist reached a hand out and stroked her shoulder then her face. He asked the question in her mind and she eventually worked up the courage, with his help of course, to present herself to a voice which had no face.

Telicos pulled her into his lap and idly stroked her waist, which he had quickly learned gave her pleasure.

* * *

Val gaped and forced herself not to let it out on her subvocals. She _really_ wanted to blurt out "Solana Vakarian!" but absolutely could not blow her cover like that. Her sister's boyfriend's sister could _not_ know who she was. Not yet. She would have to do her best to act like she knew nothing about her.

"Honoress, this is my mate: Solana Vakarian."


	30. Lingering Sentiments

As with one of the previous chapters I've like... lost the motivation to really write. I hope this finds you well. I think I'll get things moving again in the next chapter.

* * *

Shepard woke up to Garrus. He was already staring into her eyes dreamily but attentively. Shepard looked at the clock and noticed that they would not have time to go one more final, desperate round. She had to pack her things and return to her ship. And make sure that when she said goodbye to Garrus she was prepared to never see him again. She had made the mistake of thinking that he was invincible and it had destroyed her.

She had something to give him. It was her equivalent for the talon, so that his separation anxieties would be suppressed for as long as possible.

Shepard shifted away from him and reluctantly he let her go, understanding the situation that they were both currently in. They dressed in tense silence, disbelieving that they would have to separate again for an indeterminate amount of time.

Garrus was idly shifting the additional joints in his left arm when Shepard finally spun around to face him. Her eyes were wet and she was weak. The Shepard from his past was so much stronger than this, but he knew that was because it was because of him. It was one of the other reasons why his head hurt when he had to leave to her lonesome. He was in the same exact predicament, ensnared.

Shepard had reached into her bag and pulled out a case, feeling the tangible coincidence that she should have this particular artifact with her at the right time, and was now holding it to her chest tightly. Garrus had to wince every time he noticed the solid stripe of scars, thousands perhaps, that snaked up her left arm and onto her chest. It was her instability and her weakness manifest. Almost like Garrus' arm was the manifestation of his ignorance and his mistrust of her.

He stared at the box, refusing to let his arm scan the box for what was inside. He wanted his standard senses about him for this. Shepard held out the small case, about the size of both of her palms, and he took it gingerly. She passed along the intent that she wanted him to open it so he did.

Inside was a small vial, crimson, four or five centimeters in length, with thin alloy tendrils wrapping around the length of it from the base. An alloy chain served as an impossibly strong band that would never wear, tarnish, or break.

Garrus stared speechless and lifted the small vial. Shepard watched him expectantly. Sometime during her earliest stages as a Spectre, she had used a sizable chunk of her budget to get a specially crafted, almost completely indestructible vial made with filled with a small amount of her blood. It was sometimes a human thing, but she knew for a fact that Turians also gave the vials to each other as an alternative for the talon.

She was waiting for a reaction but he simply stared at the small vial in silence. His chest was heaving a little more; the lack of the keel bone made the movement more obvious. Then his eyes bored into hers. His mandibles flared and his he shook his head in what she correctly perceived as disbelief.

He pinched the chain and then removed it. Shepard did her best to hide the shock. Through the armor plating on his left arm a sectioned plate removed itself and revealed a small cavity. He slid the small vial into the cavity and then the plate realigned.

Shepard noticed that she was staring so she returned her focus to her mate's visage. Her mouth opened a little but she was cut off by a kiss that may as well have sucked her soul out. Or given her back another. He stayed there and kissed her until she could no longer breathe and then drew back.

Goodbyes were implied. They would rather keep the surrealism of the silence that remind themselves of what they were about to potentially lose. Talking just seemed like the wrong move. Garrus finally leaned back in and pressed his forehead to hers, rolling them together slowly and gently like he always did, gloved hands cupping her face.

He drew back, turned around, and left the room.

* * *

Garrus had used his holotool to snap an aerial loop of them sleeping as a keepsake for himself. But he had filed a copy away amongst those already stored in her omni-tool so she would have something a little more visual than simply a talon with which to remember him. He knew that she would enjoy it as much as he already did; there was so much emotion captured in the few frames that comprised the holo.

Garrus sent a message to his squad mates that he was returning to the ship which he assumed would be met with much enthusiasm. He could not stop flicking the small plate that held the vial she had given him. It would be safer there than around his neck; the only problem was that it would not be on public display. He wanted everyone to know that he was taken with a human. But he supposed that it would not matter either way because he was never supposed to exist in the first place. When his service came to an end, _if_ his service ever came to an end, then he would go to her. He would have the chain replaced and wear the vial around his neck with the same pride she wore his talon. And as of last night, the mark, which she had not made any effort to heal with medigel.

He had promised the Primarch that if he returned he would return repaired beyond ruin; and that was exactly how he felt. The Sicarians that had brought him back would be pleased to know that he was not ultimately a defect. Yet.

He did his best not to reveal the fold-away plating on his arm while he walked through the Citadel streets and draw more attention to himself that he already was by simply being there.

Victus surprised him by sweeping in with one of their shuttles and picking him up herself so he would not have to keep walking back to their docked craft. He stepped into the open bay and sat down on the bench, removing his helmet and smoothing back his fringe with his hand.

He could still smell Shepard on his face and his hands which he had not bothered to wash since he left the warmth of her body.

He knew Victus was staring at him from the doorway to the cockpit. Ever since he had gained the arm he had gained a sixth sense. He felt the presence of beings in the forefront of his mind, and he was able to read everything about a being from how he felt their nervous system.

"Victus," he said without much emotion in his voice. He looked up and narrowed his eyes at hers, which were spread wide open as they stared.

"You're still alive," she said disbelieving.

"Of course."

She stood there and looked at him as if he were an apparition.

"Are you?"

"What kind of question is that Victus? I'm still here aren't I?"

"But she-"

Garrus held up a hand to stop her from saying something she might regret.

"It was mostly my fault, Victus."

She narrowed her eyes, "But she-"

"_I_ saw things for the way they weren't. _I_ was the one suffering from anxieties. A friend of hers got a little too close and she rejected him. I smelled his scent on her then; yet she had not carried the stench of sex on her, and her own pheromones had been completely absent. I wasn't thinking straight."

Victus opened and shut her mouth a few times.

"It would not have taken me an entire night to talk with her then but a bullet in my head would it?"

Garrus stood up and invaded Victus' personal space, making sure she could smell the concentration of Shepard's scent that lingered on him.

"Breathe deep, Victus, that's the first human and youngest Spectre on record you're smelling."

Victus shied away in defeat and reassumed control of the craft so that they could land in the hangar bay of their starship.

Garrus stepped down from the shuttle trailed by Victus. His squad was there to meet him along with the Sicarians who were still there to make sure that his arm had no problems. Everyone in the room could feel a wave of presence as Garrus stepped back into the space. They had their commander back in full force.

* * *

Shepard watched him leave then packed her things. She felt alone again but relieved that he was at least still alive. She had convince herself that he was alive; despite every inclination she had to believe that he could not possibly still be after leaving the room. But she could smell his scent and feel the scratches he left on her skin with his talons. Most importantly, she could sense the scar in her neck which marked her as taken. She would bear it without shame to her crew, who feared her enough anyway not to comment.

She glanced at her omni-tool and noticed that a file had been added. She opened up the video file and could not stop the contented sigh and glazed eyes that accompanied it. How Garrus had achieved such a shot was far beyond her, and the loop itself was seamlessly constructed. She stared at it in a daze.

A knock on her door almost startled her, but years of training and experience had taught her how to react to a jump like that. She turned her head towards the door.

"Come in," she remotely unlocked the door from the console and allowed her visitor to enter. It was Vialan, who had arrived to accompany her back to her Spectre starship. Just two steps into the room and Vialan recoiled and narrowed her eyes at Shepard. Then she appeared to notice the bite mark on her neck and growled. Binding over a one-night stand was extremely disrespectful. It was even worse if they were courting someone else and received the bite mark from someone completely different.

"Are you serious Shepard?" Vialan said through bared teeth. Shepard continued to ignore the growling Turian in her room and finish packing her things. She would rather only have to explain what happened once to her other squad mates instead of three separate times.

"Shepard? What the hell would Garrus think?"

"Garrus quite enjoyed it."

"How can you even- What?" now she was confused. Shepard thanked Garrus for the evidence he had given her and pulled up the loop for Vialan. The Turian stared at the holo and her eyes widened.

"I'm going to explain later," Shepard said quietly, "when I have Jole and Arterius around to listen as well. The short story is he's alive. He was just here. Breathe deep, Vialan, that's the greatest Black Ops Commander on record you're smelling."

Her mandibles flapped around for a few moments before calming down. Shepard raised an eyebrow and Vialan shied away from her gaze in embarrassment.

"I'll let you continue to pack," she muttered and stood around. Shepard noticed that her breaths were noticeably much shorter and shallower as she tried _not_ to breathe in the air. Shepard eventually walked out of the room with her bag slung over one arm.

When she stepped off the shuttle more than just a few heads turned. Everyone in the hangar could detect that something was profoundly different about their commander than before shore leave. All of the Turians and a couple of the others noticed the mark and tried not to stare.

Arterius and Jole stalked right up to Shepard and Valian before they could take even three steps from the shuttle. Arterius looked a little pissed and Jole maybe a little confused. Shepard sighed in frustration that she would have to put up with Arterius' angsty bullshit at time when she had no patience for it.

* * *

"Solana Vakarian," Val said, allowing her mind to imagine it was the first time she had ever heard the name and that she knew nothing about her, "that is quite a beautiful name. It is a pleasure to meet you."

Solana and Val had been pretty close friends growing up, but their educational tracks had eventually split them apart so they had lost touch with each other. Still, Val and Solana were close; their interests had generally lined up and their opposite personalities had been surprisingly attractive to the other. However, Val had to forget the naïve, flirty, immature Solana and replace it with a new, more mature, and _mated_ Solana. Val would treat her accordingly. She was now an over ninetieth percentile woman.

Val would never have expected a Turian to find love in a Sicarian so quickly, or vice versa. Specifically Solana Vakarian, who flirted shamelessly with everyone, and Telicos Varist, who was always unusually removed from everyone. And not only that, but she had actually conceived a child, which was a biological miracle. But Val had to admit: seeing her snugly held against Varist looked natural and correct.

Solana looked much more mature by physical features alone, but something about her expression and the slightest bends and twitches in her muscles revealed volumes about her personality. Apparently she had changed quite a lot since they had last talked because this Solana was unrecognizable from the previous.

* * *

Telicos was purring into her back, which relaxed her to no end. Solana was thinking of a reply that included the word he had used. "Honoress," which translated awkwardly to Turian as "The sentient embodiment of Sicarian-kind" which was a mouthful. She would just have to stick with the pronunciation she had heard Telicos use, because she was not going to spit that translation out every time she referred to this "Honoress."

"It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Honoress," Telicos froze and then kept purring. Solana hoped she had not screwed up the pronunciation. But Telicos sensed her apprehension and whispered comforting things into her mind. Then with his mouth pressed lightly against the side of her head he clarified quietly:

"Your voice in our language is amazingly beautiful, Cor'a. Like crystal clear water; pure, cleansing, quenching a thirst I did not realize I even had. I was simply stunned."

Solana would eventually learn to stop blushing every time he said anything to her.

"Fear not, Solana Vakarian, for you have bonded with one of the most intelligent and passionate Sicarians I know. I am certain that you two will engage in a very powerful and amorous lifelong relationship."

"Thank you," Solana replied as respectfully as she could without letting it go to her head.

"I have arranged for you both to come to Eval'en. I will speak eventually; but until then you will be extremely closely guarded. I refuse to allow either of you to come to any harm."

Telicos breathed out in relief. Solana was still not quite acclimated to the fact that he could continuously breathe through his mouth supplying a gentle and sweet stream of air.

"Thank you very much _Val_," there it was again. The use of the English name. Solana could not have heard that wrong for the second time in a row. But it could not be the same Val that she knew because that Val had died quite a few years prior. It had ripped out her heart then, and it still hurt when she thought about it.

"I will contact you later. Until then, Solana Vakarian of Varist and Telicos Varist, you shall await pickup from one of my Agents. It was wonderful to see you again Telicos, and to meet you Solana. Goodbye."

"Goodbye Honoress," Telicos concluded and then closed the call. He actually shut his eyelids for a moment and pulled her against him as he leaned back, stroking her waist gently.

"I do not think you are familiar with Eval'en," he said softly, lips against the back of her head, "She wants to bring us to the Sicarian home world."

Solana stopped breathing for a moment.

* * *

Val sighed as the call closed. Throughout its duration she had already arranged everything necessary and sent out Tare'an and a few of his Agents to the ship on which Varist and his new mate were staying. There was still a lot she would like to know about how it was they had met each other and what Solana was doing that would merit Telicos going somewhere and finding her. Since the war had started he had found a calling in the military and shown an extreme proficiency for CQC and weapons skill. And as a tech master he had designed his own versions of the weapons his unit used which were lighter, more powerful, and more efficient than their predecessors.

His percentile had gone from in the sixties, which included the cap for technicians and engineers, all the way to the nineties. He had assumed command of a sizeable platoon of men and women and served as a co-captain to one of the smaller cruisers on which he and Solana were staying.

Tare'an, of course, had left without hesitation to complete her orders, even when she informed him of the rather dodgy situation. He remembered Telicos and expressed his concern over the situation into which he had been thrust. But he had also expressed his happiness that Telicos had found someone and was even starting a family despite every obstacle that worked against the extremely unlikely pair.

His Agents were aware of the problem as well. They were prepared to escort the pair out without allowing anyone to actually see the two.

Val turned around when she felt Ilus through the walls. He was taking a few moments off of his work to come and visit her during hers. They were doing surprisingly well once they had returned; their separation had clued most Sicarians there out of the fact that they were mated. Val should have been seated by his side, but she remained at the Nostrom residence to work and direct. She was more managing diplomatic efforts while Oracle was still watching over the planet and the military.

Still, a handful of the guards with whom she interacted the most had picked up that she was bonded to him. They had said nothing as per their better judgment.

"Vir'a," he greeted as he entered the room, already humming a purr at the sight of her. He removed his metal crest so she could marvel at the real crest beneath. The stone-like material was still incomplete and it would take close to for it to finish out its growth, but he had control of it in its current state. Ilus brightened the wonderful blue streaks. Val responded by showing off the amber lines that were spreading intricately to cover her face.

"I can feel tumult in your thoughts, Cor'a," he began, "if you wish to explain then I am happy to listen."

Val felt the waves of nostalgia. He had not changed in the slightest from when they had met. Even when they were mated he never held it against her when she had information that he did not. He never forced her to do or say anything that she was uncomfortable with. Every request was worded as an option. She did not know how he did it, but it only made her love him more. He trusted her so much. Too much for her own good perhaps.

"I was just speaking with Telicos Varist," she began.

"Ah, I remember him, one of your pupils" Ilus commented.

"He has found himself a mate," she continued.

"That is wonderful," Ilus added.

"She is a Turian."

Ilus paused and then spoke. Val could tell he was thinking from the static that his thoughts had become, "Alright. Then she must be quite the Turian," it was exactly like him to be as tolerant as possible. It was the Sicarian way to judge on merit alone.

"I know her, Ilus," she could feel his surprised through the air, vibrating her nervous system, "She is my sister's _boyfriend's_ sister, and a close friend of mine. I know she is a perfect match for him. They both have similar interests and personalities that line up." She had to use English for "boyfriend" because there was no equivalent word in Sicarian, "but that is not the most shocking thing. They have successfully conceived a child."

Ilus stared into her eyes. He was not disbelieving her; she knew that he would never suspect her of lying to him. He was simply contemplating how many things had to go right for such a thing to happen.

"A hybrid child," he finally concluded. Val nodded, trilling her subvocals: _a miracle; a gift._

"I have already pulled them from duty on my behalf. They are going to stay with Coros under maximum security until their child is born. And probably a few weeks after."

"Oh Lights," he said, "this is ridiculous. Amazing, but ridiculous."

"_Truth is stranger than fiction_, Vir'a," she replied. He assented with a trill on his subvocals: _indeed_.

"I trust you have it under control then? Is there anything you need me to mandate?"

Val hated it when he did that. Giving her that much power to do as she pleased distressed her because she was not supposed to have that power. She was not a fan of the idea that _she _could order him to mandate that the entire left side of the planet be killed and he would do it. Perhaps even without question.

"There is nothing you need to mandate. And I wish you would refrain from asking me for those."

"I apologize Vir'a, instinct is powerful."

"Speaking of which," she said with as much persuasion as she could muster. They only had the rest of the day together and she wanted to maximize their time together. Before she could say more Ilus held up a hand.

"Please, Cor'a, say no more," he grinned, baring his teeth and licking his lips by letting his tongue out though the sub-jaw, showing off its impressive length. Only a Sicarian would find that attractive, so it was a good thing that she was a Sicarian.

Since they had returned she had been feeling particularly energetic. She knew that it was her body demanding that they try for children even when they could not actually conceive… yet, and demanding that she give him plenty of incentive to stay hers and only hers. Val turned her gaze predatory, her target set. At the moment she wanted nothing more than to ravage and be ravaged, they could save the slow and tender for later when they had more time.

Ilus definitely picked up on her mood and turned his neck to her, goading her on. Females tended to particularly dominant when they were seeking quick pleasure in their mates and she was about to capitalize on that.

"I have twenty hours," he was still standing there invitingly, but not nearly close enough, "until that time runs out I am yours to take. So take me."

Val had never felt so aggressive and never expected to. It was, perhaps, the Sicarian mindset manifesting itself even in her most intimate of thoughts. She moved faster than usual and, despite her smaller frame she was still stronger than he. Somehow. A high pitched whistle of surprise at her sudden agility was all he got out before she had him pinned beneath her. Even though he could easily lift her away he had no intention to.

She growled in arousal but she was not quite ready. Her hand flew over the snaps in his clothing and then threw them off with blinding speed until he was left in his underwear. She growled in frustration and simply tore them off. Ilus began to return the rumble as he remained at her mercy. His anterior armatures were spread wide open giving her full access to his abdomen and abdominal slit.

His scales had begun to glisten enticingly and she could feel the cool salve begin to seep through her clothing. The slimy and sweet-tasting substance drew her lips to his abdomen and then lower still to his groin. She scraped her teeth along the softer scales down to the opening. She closed her teeth over the protective plates, making sure they dug and raked his scales.

He made it two swipes of her tongue before he was erect and ready for her. If he had not been submitting to her he would have begun long before, but she was much more powerful than him now. In mind and in body she could bend and dominate him however she pleased and he would submit. He was begging for her now, shameless.

Honoress snapped off the clasps on her clothing and they fell around her like water, accenting her form even as they fell. She dropped back to her knees and ran her teeth over his erection, which was a complete surprise and damned if he did not find it a little disgusting. She seemed to pick up on his revulsion and moved quickly away.

Val was a little surprised that they would find most any oral contact appropriate except _that_ particular kind, but she did not particularly care. She did not really have a great desire to stick her mate's member in her mouth; she would probably break her jaw. She moved quickly up his scales, sliding her skin along his for effect. He mewled which spurred her on. She had work to do. Because even though she was going to dominate the fuck out of him, she was still obligated to place his pleasure before hers.

He bucked as she moved up him. Honoress jammed her mouth into his jaw, forcing it wide open, and ran her tongue over the roof of his mouth. If he had eyeballs they would be rolling upwards into his head. His anteriors flailed helplessly as he clawed for her but she was still stronger, and was able to keep her hips away from his. She caught onto his tongue with her mouth and quickly wrapped hers around it to the best of her ability. Her tongue was getting longer, but it would never be quite as long as the average female. She sucked on the fangs relentlessly, eager for the sweet nectar he provided.

She sat up finally and raised her hips just so, grabbed a hold of him and sunk down as fast as she could tolerate. She may as well have still been a virgin she was still so tight, but she was used to the way he felt and her body was quicker to adjust. That did not mean, however, that entry did not still hurt. Her feet curled and her back arched as she slipped down onto him. A wave of lubricant flooded her and allowed her to slip the rest of the way down and slap her hips to his. The intricate markings were now bright around their union.

She would normally have paused to allow herself to adjust and relish in the feeling, but they were pressed for time so she began to move, albeit slowly, up his length until she had nearly slipped out off of him. The gratuitous amount of lubricant that he was continuing to spill splattered out of her. Val growled in desire, her mind had finally decided to confuse the pain as pleasure, unlocking her inhibitions.

She immediately started to move much faster than she normally would which caused Ilus to convulse. She felt his pelvals constrict around her hips and grind hopelessly. She wrapped and hand around his neck and pulled his head to hers as she continued to repeatedly slam her hips to his. She bent her head back and signaled him to inject her which he did without hesitation; the tip of his tongue shot out with a snap, flicking all kinds of fluid droplets onto her skin, and pressed aggressively into her neck. She could not even feel the fangs which had sliced into her skin to a depth a few centimeters. Her markings ignited and spread out in waves from every point he made contact. She inspired him to glow brighter to demonstrate the level of intensity that he burned for her.

With the influx of stimulants some of the pain came back but it only made her ramp the pace back up. At that moment his sheath, which emerged fully flared, crammed into her and practically knocked the wind out of her. She had to stop for a moment and catch her breath before starting up again.

Ilus was feeling completely dazed, to consumed with his arousal to focus on anything in particular. His mate showing him her predatory and powerful side was doing unimaginable things to very specific parts of his mind. When he tried to buck his hips to meet her she crushed them down with one hand while keep the other securely around his neck to prevent his tongue from snapping out of her. His sheath would not flare to his command, instead staying completely flared.

She was going to destroy him if she was not careful. She altered her motions and his back arched. His mandible was taken by her lips and sucked upon. His breath halted altogether when she slid her teeth along the length of his tongue that she had access to.

She suddenly froze and squeezed around him extremely tightly. The sight of her markings burned into his vision as his lenses bulged. He was concerned that her inner walls would puncture over his plating. She was bleeding. His glands contracted and pumped out wave after wave of healing salve to help her recover. He finally managed to compress his plates and remove his sheath from her, but they were far from finished. Val gazed at him and then leaned back.

It was his turn. The control dynamic reversed in an instant and he was pinning her to himself, suspending both of their bodies off the ground using his wings. His sheath was back inside her and finally behaving normally. Val was already panting and he had not moved his hips. Using every available limb he moved, using momentum to increase the intensity of his thrusts.

They decided, even though neither of them was through with the other, that they needed to rest if they were going to be able to wake up and perform to the best of their abilities the next day. Ilus sealed her, both rumbling in protest and sighing quietly with pleasure even as he left her.

He lifted his mate, nestled snugly against his chest, to the bed. They fell asleep quickly, intoxicated and tired.

* * *

Avarus Vakarian found her not in the bed, but waiting for him outside of their residence on Concordia, the planet from which he had just left. He brushed off his confusion as simply anxiety. Aevia Vakarian was looking exceptionally beautiful against the dark sea sky and the cool moonlight. And, for whatever reason, she was wearing a semi-transparent garment that allowed him to see through to her form beneath, which was lithe and slender yet graceful and powerful: the mark of a perfect female.

At fifty nine he was still considered young, about a third of the way through his life, she was three years younger than he. She did not look a day older than when he met her just after completing his service years to Black Ops. She met him halfway as he approached her. His still quite active lust for her nearly got the better of him; what she was wearing…

She seemed particularly soft that night; he could always tell between when she was feisty and when she was craving slow and comforting. She was distressed about their absence of their children and worried that they were both in danger, dying, or dead. So he stalled with here there, allowing her to soak in his presence which he knew she found calming. His forehead lightly rested against hers.

Suddenly her body was pulled away from with a shattering force, most of her neck and part of her jaw had completely vanished and a fountain of blue blood scattered into the gentle wind, coating the ground. He gaped, in complete denial. He spun around, the professional sniper in him telling him that the shot had come from behind him somewhere.

He saw himself standing there, holding the same sniper rifle he always used. He stared. When he turned his head back to his mate he was holding the rifle, still smoking, still aiming at the spot where beautiful face and slender neck had once occupied. He had killed his mate.

Avarus was too shaken to make a sound. He threw the rifle to the side and sank to his knees. He reached out a hand, shocked to notice that it was one of _theirs_, two thumbs, five fingers total. He touched Aevia's now completely Sicarian face, or what was left of it, with his transmuted hand, gazing into the now completely obsidian orbs that had once been her stunning green eyes. Finally he kissed her, his lips grazing hers which remained soft and untouched, the sensation so strange yet so familiar somehow.

A tear ran down his scales.

* * *

"Avarus! Avarus wake up!"

His eyes snapped open and he looked around wildly. The first thing that he managed to see was her wonderful green irises staring worriedly back into his.

"Avarus," she gasped, maybe just as stunned as he was at the sight of the one tear that had escaped painfully from one eye. He blinked a few times to help with the stinging and clear his lenses of the blood.

"Oh Spirits, love," she whispered and moved to wipe the streak away. She was struck with the freezing cold realization that her mate had endured a nightmare so affective as to cause him to tear. She was not entirely sure of what to do. She wanted to know what he had gone through to share his burdens with him, but she also did not want to ask him to relive what he had. If she could make any guesses it was a dream where one of his dearest loved ones, children and herself, had been killed or died. She was unable to fully imagine what that was like, because she had never gone through such a horror.

She also suspected it had something to do with the explicit guilt he had felt from the recent incident in which he had accidentally taken the life of a Sicarian and watched his mate suffer. She was not going to assume that the dream had been about that event in particular, she just considered it highly likely.

Avarus buried his muzzle into her neck and held her against him. She held him with all of her strength. She would do anything in her power to help him survive this ordeal. His pheromones began to spike and he rolled over her, his body and spirit demanding the most intimate manner of bringing his reality back. She submitted herself.

* * *

"Doctor Solus," the… what where they called? Sicarian said from the doorway. Mordin glanced up from his datapad. He had been able to determine where they had left off in their research and how much they had and had not lost.

"We have determined that you are free to leave whenever and to wherever you please. However, there does seem to be a… situation which one of your colleagues, _Va_'Solana Vakarian has requested that you join her. She is going to our home planet to for reasons to which I am uninformed. I will lead you to her now so you can discuss your plans."

Mordin blinked. For once he could not reason through the possible causes of her sudden desire to go even further away from home. For lack of a better way to put it: right into the arms of the supposed enemy. He nodded and followed the Sicarian out, genuinely intrigued. Vakarian was a wonderful and bright colleague of his, the backbone of their project. He was prepared to make the appropriate sacrifices for her.

* * *

"Primarch,"

"Garrus. I take your presence to mean that something was not as it seemed?"

"It was definitely not what I had expected. She wasn't exactly… in the best mental condition when I found her. Scarred herself over my presumed death… I suppose that speaks volumes about her attitude. She even went as far as…" he popped the vial out and showed the object to the Primarch, who gazed at it pensively.

"I'm happy that you are fully restored. You are like a brother to me Garrus, that bond is not particularly easy to cope with when severed."

"Thank you Victus. Adrien. I await your orders for action."

"As a matter of fact I do have orders for your squad. There is a formal summit with the Sicarians and the council. I have good reason to suspect that someone will attempt to sabotage this gathering and further the problem as has been happening for the past few months. I need you to get there and stay in the shadows; make sure that there is no trace of potential threats. The council cannot afford any more losses than they already have. The cuts may be too deep to heal if we do not act soon."

"Yes brother. I will relay your orders and we will go immediately."

* * *

Arterius said nothing and opted instead to point angrily at the bite scar on her neck.

"You repla-"

"Stuff it Arteruis!" Shepard interrupted, "he wasn't actually dead."

"Don't bullshit me Commander," he bit out.

"Would I?"

He thought for a moment, but his growl was still going and his eyes were still narrowed.

"You said his arm was blown off…"

"He was given a prosthesic. A damn perfect one at that."

"I don't believe it."

"Believe it."

"She has a picture holo thing," Vialan added.

Arterius finally fell silent.

"I knew he was invincible," he muttered.

There was relative silence for a few moments before one of her of communications officers, a pretty little Asari, shuffled in urgently and waited nervously to be addressed by her commanding officer. Her eyes flickered to the scar on her neck and the ground.

"Yes?" Shepard questioned.

"Commander, ma'am," she said nervously, not picking up on the obvious shift in aura around Shepard since she had returned, "we are have been called to a summit with the… Sicarians. We are to help with preliminary negotiations. The council said they want one of humanity's best."

"It's about damn time," Shepard did not want to think about having to share a room or even a building with the monsters that had ruined her mate, and indeed the lives of many more with their merciless ways.


	31. Reaching the Summit

I can barely write. Ugh. Here's another chapter.

* * *

Avarus and Aevia where a little distraught when Solana came home the next day and told them that she had found work on an extremely secretive project on which she was going to be the engineering lead. While they were happy for her, it reminded them all too much of their son, dare they speak his name, who was no longer with them. Neither parent wanted to lose the only child they really had left. Solana was the only thing that kept either of tied to the ground.

But she was happy so they would be happy for her. She was really turning out to be like Garrus; extremely intelligent, independent at an early age, ready to go do what they wanted to do as soon as possible. She had become fiercely more mature in such a short period of time at the engineering academy. They waved goodbye. Aevia buried her face into her mate's neck and refused to watch their daughter go. She was not sure if she was weeping in happiness or sadness.

* * *

Mordin was led to a room by the Agent and then left at the door to wait for something to happen. The metal surface slowly clicked and opened inward slightly. He pushed on the door and entered the space.

Immediately he smelled something different. There was something completely strange about what it was he smelled and he had yet to put a finger on it. As he walked farther into the room he found his esteemed colleague sitting on the couch with a hand draped over her stomach and another resting idly on the cushion to stabilize herself.

She looked surprisingly… pregnant. That was the only word he could use to describe how she was seated and acting. He knew it was not so. He had not picked up on that before they had been rescued, and there were no species that developed that quickly. Unless… no impossible.

"Miss Vakarian," he greeted smiling and pretending to know everything about the situation even thought this was one of the rare cases of his inability to deduce what was actually going on. She had called him here so she definitely had her reasons.

"Doctor Solus,"

"Please, Mordin."

"You _do_ call me 'Miss Vakarian' all the time…"

"Force of habit, different," he dismissed, "you request my presence. Want to go with these… Sicarians their home world. Dangerous. Exciting. Amazing opportunity to learn. Happy to help, but need explanation."

"This isn't going to be easy. I know you are quite familiar with xenobiology, so you know that Turians are able to mate quickly and stay mated for the rest of their lives… Apparently… so are the Sicarians."

Mordin narrowed his eyes, already knowing where this was going, but not understand exactly what it was he needed to go the Sicarian home world for. So they she was mated to a Sicarian; they could just stay here for a while until they figured things out.

"I… became quite bound to one after he rescued me from the base and ensured my safe return. It was fast… like a few moments and I felt like I belonged at his side."

Mordin blinked and nodded. He agreed with all of that so far. He wished she would just cut to the chase.

"We… um… I'm pregnant with a hybrid child."

"No," Mordin replied. It was the same answer that he would give someone who told him that one plus one equaled something besides two.

"Yes," she replied with the same tone.

"No," he repeated again.

"Doctor Solus-"

"Please, just Mordin," he replied.

"Spirits Mordin! Listen to me!"

He snapped his mouth shut.

"Believe it! Okay?" she took a deep breath and calmed herself down. He noticed her talon idly stroking over her stomach, "I have not been with anyone before him, and we… had sexual intercourse… so the baby has to be his. Alright?"

"No."

"Yes!"

"You sure?"

"Yes," she finally said, voice softening. He could see the desperation in her posture; she _wanted_ to have this child and she _wanted_ it to be his.

Mordin felt his world shatter for a second and the replace itself. He was divided between returning to finish the prosthesis project or investigate this miraculous anomaly. Both of these projects, however, required his colleague to be present and in her current state she was unlikely to dedicate her time to something besides her child.

"The gestation period is ten _days,_ Mordin."

He stared some more.

"The baby is a boy," she added quietly.

Mordin thought.

"Ten days problematic for body. Risk of spinal injury. Plate fracture. Will need to monitor. Document. Will come with you. Don't let them eat me."

Vakarian's mandibles fluttered into a grin. Mordin's attention spiked as he felt something through the floor. The door opened an instant later, an eerie silence accompanying it. The being that he knew had just walked in felt more like a mental presence than a physical one; like if he turned there would be nothing there.

"You must be Doctor Mordin Solus," he heard the layered voice, typical of a Sicarian. He knew instantly that this was the voice of his colleague's recent mate, and apparent father to their son. He turned around and had to look _way_ up to meet the solid orbs of color that were his eyes. Mordin soaked up the quite calming appearance of this one, noting the clear predator beneath the smooth water-like surface.

"Please-" he began.

"Shut up Mordin," Vakarian cut him off. This new character ignored the comment.

"I carry the named Telicos of Varist. I am honored to make your acquaintance, Doctor. My mate and I deeply appreciate your consideration of the offer that has been made."

The way he talked. It made Mordin want to do anything he said. Maybe it was because was so damn wordy. Or the shameless sycophancy.

"Yes. Very intrigued yet concerned about situation. Happy to aid however I can. Prosthesis project can wait."

He saw Solana shift in her seat, but Varist did not move his head.

"Thank you so much, Doctor," Varist bowed.

"Thank you Mordin," Solana echoed from the couch.

There was a contemplative silence before Mordin spoke up again.

"I need-"

"Done," Vakarian answered, anticipating his question and sending him the scans, which had already been made. He looked them over and his eyes grew wide. What had occurred between them could mean the beginning of the greatest biological discovery known in the recorded history of any of the races.

* * *

The two Sicarians appeared a little distraught when he returned to them.

"See?" Victus said triumphantly, "Not defective."

The male stepped into his personal space. Garrus had to look up slightly to meet his lenses, which were cutting into him and acquiring evidence that he was, in fact, not defective. The male leaned back and nodded.

"It would appear that we were wrong in our assumption, but that is not the source of our agitation. We were under the initial impression that we would be returned to our fleet much sooner."

"I apologize," Garrus cut in before Victus accidentally said something stupid, "there has not been time until now. And we have been called to defend a meeting between your people and those of the council. You can return there, where negotiating our entry into your fleet won't have to be an issue."

"Thank you, Commander," the female said, bowing slightly. He could recall something that he had said to Victus years ago: "if you or I weren't taken, I wouldn't hesitate to ram you into tomorrow; you're quite beautiful if that counts for anything." He had no desire for this female, which was probably why he had not been murdered by her mate yet, but he could not deny that she was amazingly beautiful. And he knew that he found her so because he compared her to Shepard.

"Alright, get ready. We're heading out in a few hours," Garrus commanded.

"You got it boss!" and variations of the reply rang out. He and the two Sicarians were left in the hangar.

"Is your squad going to present itself at the summit then?" the male asked.

"We have a pretty good hunch that there will be at least one team of people there who want to ruin it and frame someone. We are going to make sure that it never happens. It should never be known that we were even there to begin with."

"I see," came the reply, "If you wish I can call in some favors and assign you a Sicarian Overwatch team."

Garrus thought a moment. His arm had been cleaned off by what he knew was an Overwatch Agent of theirs, but had not told them that. But he could not deny that the shot had been fired from well over ten kilometers. These Overwatch Agents were definitely the best of their marksmen, and he would gladly accept command over one or two.

"I accept your offer."

"Thank you commander," the male replied. Garrus felt a little ashamed that he had never learned their names. After all, they were the ones who had given him back his Shepard. A five-fingered, two-thumbed hand was held out so he grasped the wrist and shook it.

* * *

The crew was baffled as to what exactly had happened on shore leave that made her change so profoundly from the cold-hearted bitch she had been for the past year to far warmer and personable woman. Of course, the bite scar had raised some rumors; the Turians on her craft had been trying to deny that it was actually from a Turian. Most were just glad that something had changed her and were trying their best not to cause her to snap back to the way she was before.

Shepard had decided to bring her ground team along with her because she felt uncomfortable without their reliable support by her side. And she figured if she was supposed to represent humanity's best, she could also allow the Turians to show their colors as well.

She was never able to remove the suspicion that the Turians and the Sicarians had negotiated non-aggression; according to casualty reports, they were lowest… right above the Sicarians. The numbers really stressed how important resolving this conflict was. The Sicarians, if they really wanted to, could wipe the Galaxy clean of all sentient life, and up until this point they had been holding back in the hopes that there could be a peaceful resolution.

She did not want to see what happened when they decided that the conflict was not worth the time and just destroyed everything. And they would.

The maiming thing was a cruel tactic. They were jamming up medical centers full of people who had lost limbs but not their lives. It was almost as bad as killing the people, more and more of whom were rejected out of the medical centers and left to die slowly and painfully because there was no more space.

"Alright, they've given us absolutely no information regarding this thing and Arterius and I are Spectres so… just be on your best behavior and we should be fine. Likely we'll have some actual politicians there to keep the Sicarians talking so we don't have to interact ever."

"Got it Shepard," Valian replied. Jole simply nodded his usual quiet nod. Arterius hummed in assent.

"We are the best of our respective races," Shepard said confidently, "well… with the exception of…"

"We know what you mean Shepard," Arterius finished off to spare her the painful thoughts, "Disregarding the fact that there are those who are far more qualified for the 'best of the best' position, we will have to suffice."

"Do your best not to hate them Shepard," Jole said quietly, "unprovoked aggression doesn't read well with any species so I assume the same of them."

"I can't make any promises," Shepard clipped, "I can't forgive them for the damage they've caused."

"I still think that the Alliance's actions towards the Sicarians when they first entered through the relay was undeserved and wrong."

"They broke galactic law, Jole," Arterius countered.

"How could they have known that? It was the same issue with the First Contact Conflict… only now we are threatened with extinction if we don't do something."

"Extinction," Valian scoffed, "They can't overpower the entirety of the galactic powers."

"Can't they?" Jole replied, always so damn calm it was unsettling, "I'm pretty sure any race with a dreadnaught that can enter atmo is powerful enough. Downing the _SSV Kilimanjaro_ with a single shot was probably the low end of their destructive capabilities."

"Always the optimist," Shepard mused.

"I prefer realist."

"One hour," Arterius cut in, mandibles twitching, "let's suit up and get going."

"Let's suit up and get going," Shepard smacked him in the shoulder playfully, "what happened to your sense of hierarchy?"

* * *

The Sicarian walked past him, a ghost upon his feet. Mordin continued to stare at the information over and over until he convinced himself that it was real. A real hybrid. He was almost certain it had to do with her specific line of genetics, which had a few key differences from the average. And, of course, he knew that her mate's DNA, if it could even be called such a thing, would have to match almost perfectly.

He did not understand it fully, which was extremely unsettling to him because he was used to understanding everything immediately.

He was able to reach the others who had all apparently disembarked; the Turians had returned to Palaven and the Salarians to Sur'kesh respectively. Mordin could care less how the Sicarians had been able to pull that off. He told them of his plans but not of the reasons. He told them to continue with the project if they could; they could certainly finish what they had started with the recent bio-synthetic breakthrough.

He received mostly worries and complaints about his and Vakarian's leave, but he simply ignored them. They had their objective and they had their skills. They could accomplish what they needed to on their own. His work was about through anyway.

He saw… Varist set himself down beside his mate and rest a hand on her stomach so that it covered hers. He felt like he was intruding on something intimate, so he did his best to appear like he did not care. So far he had been doing quite well holding his façade of unflappability to the point which everyone expected him to act that way.

He heard Vakarian groan slightly and just noticed her shift uncomfortably. At the rate the infant was growing, he expected that she would come to severe pains in her back, especially if Sicarian infants were larger than Turian infants. He was about to get up and offer her some pain killers when he noticed Varist… he narrowed his eyes just to be sure that what he was seeing was really happening.

It looked like Varist was touching her with his… _tongue_. Yes tongue.

He wanted to get up and move over there but the door opened and another Sicarian came in.

"Salutations _Senatas_ Mordin Solus, _Va_'Solana Vakarian… of Varist, and _Var_'Telicos of Varist. My name is Axess Tare'an. I am here to escort you to a secure location."

All three nodded. Vakarian tried to stand up but doubled over and nearly fell. Mordin twitched instinctively in her direction but stopped when he noticed Varist's extra armatures extend and then engulf her with the hidden membrane. The trill of worry was easy to hear.

"Rapid expansion stressing spine," Mordin informed, "support her by waist and upper back, arch spine slightly." Varist nodded and did as he was told, scooping her into his arms and keeping her held in a more comfortable manner.

"Whenever you are ready," Tare'an reminded them. They followed him into the hallway and were immediately surrounded by a group of six more Agents who all had their wings expanded like a shroud. Once they started walking, they were completely covered by all different colors of membranes forming a tent of privacy.

Varist kept purring and cooing and pressing his fingers into her fringe lightly to distract his mate from some of the pain. Mordin got the distinct impression from the way that he was carrying himself that he could sense her pain… Mordin was growing more and more intrigued to learn about this new race by the second.

They walked under their canopy for a while until they reached a craft. They entered the back and promptly left the ship they had been stationed on. The membranes contracted and the Agents all aligned themselves perfect statue-still along the walls of the small bay, leaving the three of them with some space in the back of the craft.

* * *

Solana knew there would have to be some catch to convenience of a quick birth. She assumed that the level of pain she was in now was going to last until she gave birth to their son. She concentrated on her mate and the pleasant vibrations that she could feel though the chest plate. The steady and rhythmic pulses of his markings and lenses almost in time to her heartbeat were hypnotic. By that point she could completely forgotten that she was being held in his arms. She dropped off to sleep as her body diverted more and more nutrients to her womb to feed their rapidly growing infant.

* * *

Telicos felt his mate still in his arms, her heartbeat dramatically slowed and her breathing dropped off. He tried to rouse her but she did not respond. He tried to feedback through her nervous system but that was unresponsive as well.

"Doctor Solus!" he almost cried out in panic. Telicos knew nothing about her or the way that her species operated, but he was positive that something was going horribly wrong. The small alien, Solus, twitched and appeared by his mate's side, passing a glowing holographic ring over the surface of her head then chest.

"Vitals critical," he stated, "needs nourishment. Body not used to growth rate of infant."

Telicos reached into the onboard medical kit and grabbed an emergency stimulant pack worth about ten meals worth of nourishment and injected it into the skin on her neck. Solus watched intently and then nodded when he drew the device away. Telicos trilled in relief when he felt her heart rate and breathing return to normal.

She shifted in his arms and he allowed her to snuggle closer to him. Instinctively his wings wrapped around her form and shrouded her.

Thought by thought he was consumed with her safety, her comfort, and her survival. Thought by thought his fear of death became nothing; if he was to give his life ensure her and their child's survival then there would be no hesitation. For the next nine days now most of his time would be spent in a vigil over his mate while he allowed her to be cared for and watched over.

* * *

The Overwatch Agents contacted him through his holotool, which could project a static hologram and simultaneously counteract the motion of his arm. It was like they were standing right in front of him. Both wore a full suit of armor, much like the one Garrus was currently wearing. None of them bothered to remove their helmets.

"Sir," they both chimed. Obviously they had been briefed as to who he was and what it was they were to do. This was simply a meet-and-greet because they would likely never see each other on the ground. That is, if they were as good as he hoped they were.

"Welcome to the team, temporarily. If you would please introduce yourselves so I have something to call you by," he asked.

"Overwatch A," said one, "Overwatch B" said the other. Garrus stared at them for a while and then simply nodded. If they did not want to hand out their real names then he could live with that.

"Alright, then I can just be 'Commander' to you,"

"Yes sir, Commander," both responded in synch with one another.

"We are ready to drop immediately. We have pushed our individual drop locations to your holotool."

Garrus pulled up the three-dimensional map of the meeting location on his holotool and surveyed what they had proposed. His mind was already working out where he could send in his squad mates.

"These positions are advantageous. Drop when ready and set up. We will live promptly. Good luck A and B," Garrus concluded.

"On our honor sir. We will await your arrival."

With that the connection severed.

Garrus pinged his squad mates that they were going to drop. He could work out a plan of defense, or attack if necessary, on their way down. They were out of the hangar within ten minutes.

* * *

Their shuttle gained clearance and landed on one of the guarded landing pads which already had a few transport vehicles resting there. The shuttle jolted when the landing legs made contact. For whatever reason, Shepard felt as if this was a battlefield, and that they were landing hot.

But she was whipped back to reality when nothing attacked her as the shuttle door opened; no bullets pinged against the metal. They were approached by two of those things. Shepard had never seen one up close, and even though they were behind armor she could read all sorts of information from them based on their movements.

They stopped in front of her, sunk to one knee, and bowed in what she assumed was respect. She noticed Vialan and Arterius twitch a little, resisting the urge to bow back when they did not know what it meant to them. Shepard was a little shocked.

"It is an honor to be in your presence, Commander Ada Shepard."

Shepard did not have time for their bullshit, even though she was surprised that they knew who she was enough to respect her very much apparently.

"Just lead us in," she growled.

"Yes Commander," The two Sicarians rose instantly and walked towards the doors of the building. Shepard was presented with a very traumatic display of wings and the sniper rifles that had taken her mate's arm right. She shuddered at the memory. She really truly hated the entire race for what they were and what they had done to the galaxy.

The four of them walked towards the double doors which were held open by the Sicarians. One of the two took the lead in front of the group to direct them to the meeting room and the other trailed behind. Shepard hated how quiet they were. Even more she hated how they registered no vitals on her omni-tool. It was impossible to tell if they were dead or not.

Their group was led into a room already filled with beings belonging the council races. The councilors themselves were there as well as generals from each respective military, all of whom Shepard hated just as much as her enemy. They were only interested in the economy that war brought; it was just like any war in the past. Only, they were guaranteed to lose no matter how hard they tried.

Her temper flared in the presence of so many corrupt and debauched cretins. They deserved to be sent out into the fight, because they would last for no longer than five seconds before being ripped apart by a bolt driver.

She did not, however, see any Sicarians. Shepard had this uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach that they had all been lured there with the promise of peace so that the Sicarians could just detonate a bomb or shoot them all right there. It would be easy, especially considering the attendees.

Shepard was sought out by some of her alliance counterparts who wanted to speak to her and admire and kiss her ass. There was really only one person in the entire galaxy who could do all three of those things perfectly and beautifully, and he was not there. If he were then she would have noticed by now; her body had learned his pheromones, which was the scientific reason why the talon always burned when he was nearby.

She preemptively groaned as the first general approached her. The very same one that had been on the _SSV Kilimanjaro_. The very same one that had basically single-handedly caused this whole conflict by ordering the open-fire. And he had received a medal of honor for his commitment to duty. She did not have the right mind about her to assign him a name. Jole looked at Shepard cautiously and then stepped in front of her to receive the general. He was a little flustered.

"Excuse me," the general said agitated.

"Adam Jole," Jole completed as if asked, and extended his hand for a shake. The general glared at him but shook it anyway just to be polite, "it's a pleasure sir."

"If you would please excuse me, I wanted to have a word with Commander Shepard," the general began.

"I am certain it can wait. She is not in the mood to talk right now sir."

The general glanced at Shepard once, saw that Jole was correct, and thought better than to mess with the famed Commander Shepard. Bad things happened to those that deliberately put themselves on her bad side. Jole took him aside and conversed with him.

Arterius and Vialan had been whisked away by their respective parties for their respective badgerings, leaving her completely alone when the next creature to walk through the door on the other side of the room nearly caused her mind to implode.

* * *

"Sir," piped up "A," who was currently fifteen kilometers away on a mountain with a rail driver that made Garrus extremely fucking jealous, "Ten unidentified and almost completely stealthed dropship-type aeronautic vehicles just flew in, heading 163."

"It would appear that our suspicions have been confirmed…" Krios' smooth voice resonated over the comms channel.

"Of course they have," Victus replied.

"Good thing we expected them then," Reventus said, "Good call boss."

"Why wouldn't they?" Castus pitched in.

"Way to be predictable…" Levisian muttered.

"Can't blame them though," Garrus finally spoke from his post, watching intently through his sniper scope, "an opportunity to ruin an opportunity like this?" he snorted. He much preferred the sniper to the weapon that was imbedded into his prosthesis; he was simply too used to familiar weight of the sniper rifle in his hands and the profile against his form to give up the weapon. He did, however, take full advantage of some of the auxiliary sensors that his arm provided.

"Alright A and B," Garrus started, "you are cleared to fire as soon as we can get more information about who they are. Anyone who would want to crash this event is worth eradicating with extreme prejudice."

"_Kosor'e; sol'kosicari'an_," B exclaimed. Garrus had no idea what that meant but it sounded positive. As if sensing that he required an explanation A spoke, "it means 'your voice speaks the truth; the essence of a true hunter.' Turn on your translator B."

"It is on. The translators do not, however, translate idioms."

"Thank you," Garrus replied to the complement.

"Alright I'm breaking into an omni-tool," Castus murmured. That was good news because those dropships had actually landed yet. After gaining access, a bug basically tethered Garrus' Sicarian holotool into the device. From there it was like smashing an egg with a cruiser; the AI that ran a lot of the holotool functions had an extremely easy time sorting through data and returning anything that could be considered important.

"Alright I have the information. Good job Castus," Garrus said eying the contents of what she had retrieved.

"I didn't do shit," she mumbled. Garrus ignored her.

"Hm… the Shadow Broker huh?" Garrus growled angrily. If there was one necessary evil that he hated more than any other.

"Spirits dammit," most of the squad groaned in unison.

"Please inform us," A inquired.

"The Shadow Broker basically buys and sells information. Incredibly lucrative, and possible the most dangerous business known. I do not want them anywhere near the meeting; whatever they hear will be used against someone else. That is the last thing we need right now. You are cleared to fire."

"Yes sir," replied the Agents and his squad.

Garrus noticed the flash of light on the mountain way in the distance; bad memories flooding back briefly, his body tensing. But the target was the trailing ship in the formation. One shot from one of the rail drivers ripped the cock pit out of the craft. Another flash of light sliced through the craft headlong and shredded through a mass effect generator in towards the rear of the craft. It lit up and then detonated, leaving a burning trail streaking down into the terrain below.

"Impressive,"

"Thank you sir," A said before firing another shot. Four more craft went down in the next few seconds.

Garrus lined up a shot with his sniper and tracked the next ship in the line, one he knew they would not be aiming for yet. He let a shot fly, barely feeling the recoil, and watched with great satisfaction as the shot found its mark in the weak spot of the quickly moving dropship. Levisian followed up by popping the other engine, a very impressive shot.

Two of the craft actually made it onto the ground. It seemed that Agent A and Garrus had the same idea of letting their CQC down there put their skills to use. Agent B was apparently extremely proficient with CQC. Garrus watched through his scope, wanting to know how it was they fought. Castus was currently stalking the other ship with Krios. Reventus and Victus were watching entry ways.

"Reventus move to assist Castus and Krios," Garrus wanted to see how B would handle an entire dropship worth of enemies by himself. If he needed assistance then he and Levisian would rain down deadly sniper fire.

"Moving."

That left B all by himself. Garrus peered at B's location and could not make him out using sight alone. The camouflage he used was vastly superior. The twelve heavily armed troopers that left the dropship were all going to die before they even knew what was attacking them. Garrus looked up slightly just to catch the flare of golden wings from higher up on the building.

Garrus watched the creature as he moved with overwhelming grace for what it was he was actually doing. B landed on one of them, instantly killing the target by severing the brainstem. The armatures on the back launched him back into the air. Three shots were fired from a sidearm, all perfect headshots. He swept two of the enemies off their feet with an outstretched armature and caught them both with dual holoblades, which immediately cut a thin line through their skulls. The wounds were cauterized and no blood was spilled, but they were quite certainly dead. Three more shots, three more kills.

At that point the remaining three had pulled their rifles, but the killer had disappeared. He reappeared on the façade of the structure hanging by one armature. The other slammed right through a helmet, which caused Garrus' jaw to drop. He had no idea they were capable of such a feat. He guessed that implants were the explanation behind it, an imbedded holoblade, much like his own, would allow for that.

The final kill was punctuated with a shot from his sidearm. Garrus had the right mind about him to check on how the other group was doing. He glanced over and peered through his scope. He purred contentedly when he saw Krios lift someone and Reventus slice into the Broker's warrior with deadly precision.

"Clear," said B and the other group almost nearly at the same time.

"Good work," Garrus purred, "fucking Shadow Broker," he muttered under his breath, "Scrub what you can from their omni-tools, if anything is still left. We need to increase the security here."

"Oh fucking shit," colorful-mouthed Victus cursed.

"What?" Krios and Garrus questioned at once, particularly worried about the tone of her voice.

"They have agents _inside_ the meeting. I have a list of names. At least they were stupid enough to make it easy for us."

"Then we need to move in. Rendezvous at rear exit four-C. Overwatch A, you can stay were you are and keep watch."

"Yes sir."

The squad sprang into action. Garrus and Levisian packed up their gear and jumped into a compact transport vehicle so they could meet up with the rest of the team. Victus began to move around to the designated exit.

Meanwhile, Garrus sent off a summary of the predicament and the list of agents to the Primarch, as well as Sicarian high command, which was conveniently a contact on his holotool. If they were anything like Turians, and he assumed they were just by mannerisms and philosophy alone, even their politicians should be combat savvy and ready to defend themselves in a firefight.

He received a reply from the Primarch that word had been sent out to the Spectres who were currently on the floor. Moments later he received another reply from Sicarian high command that thanked him deeply for his knowledge, and that the active Agents in the summit were already working on it.

He refused to let this summit go down the drain. Eventually the Turians would have to surface their backdoor treaty, effectively severing themselves as allies with the rest of the galactic community, if this kept up any longer. It was clear that the Sicarians had the potential to wipe the galaxy of its inhabitants. It was in the interest of Turian-kind to avoid extinction. Tensions were beginning to crack the alliances between all of the races; none wanted to sacrifice for the others at this point because already so much was gone.

This summit was the hinge; the turning point. Failure was not an option.

* * *

Tare'an thought that Varist's choice of mate was impeccable, even if she was not a Sicarian. He could see how they fit to each other like carefully crafted mechanical pieces. The connection between them was apparent, palpable. Now that his mate was with child, Varist was on complete lockdown and he would be tricky to deal with. Even the most savvy and dignified of Sicarians lost it when their mates were with child.

And in her own right, she was beautiful. She had long slender fringes that were similar to those of a Sicarian female, and her face was comprised of a pleasing combination of curves and angles. Her waist was disturbingly thin, even with the bulge of the child in her womb, but graceful and exotically alluring.

It was probably made even more convenient that _Val_ just so happened to be a friend of hers. His heart cords ached for any potential Sicarian-alien binding that was trapped in this similar predicament with no access to the resources or connections that someone like Varist had. He really doubted the likelihood of a hybrid child like they had, but with the way that Sicarians expressed a bind… it was entirely possible.

Pregnancy with a Sicarian child looked like it was taking its toll on the mother. The gestation period was particularly painful due to the rapid expansion of the pelvic cavity for the child, but it was relatively short. Ten days in exchange for a lifetime of happiness with a family was perfectly fair in his mind.

The small bug-eyed alien was a comical and energetic little fellow, but he sensed extremely high level mind functions through the air. The little guy was a genius, and added to the notion that everything about the situation was based on luck. By chance a hybrid child had been conceived by two beings who were completely prepared to cope with it, and had access to the proper care to see that the child was born.

Their midsized transport vehicle soon found itself squarely planted upon the medical building in Vir'atras. The small group of Agents shrouded the three and escorted them inside the building to one of the uppermost medical suites. The Agents would be staying there as full-time guard staff along with the small alien that would play a crucial role in her, her child's, and indeed her mate's survival.

* * *

Telicos trilled with worry when his mate groaned again in pain. He was barely hanging on to rational thought. At least he had made it into the medical suite with her and was now standing vigil over the medical bed in which she would lie for the next few days. He finally felt himself slip away. He hoped that when he awoke it would be to witness the birth of his son, whatever he may look like.

* * *

Solana found herself on a hospital bed, which meant that she was buried completely amidst the proverbial enemy. This was their home planet, and there was no way to escape. She accidentally let a worried trill fly and was immediately met with her mate, reassuring, who knelt by her side and stroked her neck gently.

Another Sicarian who wore what she could only describe as a lab coat walked up pressed a small metal device against his neck. It clicked and then was drawn back. Solana looked expectantly at the other figure. Then she noticed that she was in quite uncomfortable pain.

"Welcome awake, _Va'_Solana Vakarian of Varist. Along with your colleage, Mordin Solus, I will be providing oversight to your condition throughout your gestation period. I am _Senatas_ Sevist Coros."

Solana clamped her mandibles to her jaw to keep from groaning in pain. Coros stared for a while before chuffing and administering a shot to her neck that dimmed the soreness. She caught on that Telicos was actually supposed to play that role here.

"He _will_ do it, but that pseudo-sedative is still fresh…" Coros muttered. Mordin walked into the room.

"Greetings," he piped up, always happy, always lightening the mood. Solana guessed that he was probably in paradise here amongst all of this technology and convolution. He and Coros spoke quietly while Telicos continued to kneel beside her and stroke her hands with his. He seemed a little checked out at the time being, as if he was not fully aware of his surroundings.

"Miss Vakarian," Solus clipped as he approached her, running a scan over the now quite noticeable bulge in her stomach. He looked at the readings on the device and quickly backed away. The new Sicarian spoke up then.

"Would you like to see your son? We have primary holo-scans. Breathtaking indeed."

Solana nodded and looked into her mate's eyes. He did not move his head to look around which confused her. Instead he continued to massage her and make sure she was comfortable.

And then she saw the fully realized, three dimensional hologram of the infant inside her. Their son. Their impossible hybrid son, who had been confirmed to the highest order to contain Sicarian DNA which hybridized hers and her mate's.

The infant looked like a turian child completely, but there were some discrepancies. The eyes were certainly not Turian, but Sicarian. Color was not displayed, but she knew that they would be the same color as his, magnificent fire yellow. There was something a little off about the mandibles; they appeared to have a split down the middle of each. It was the four Sicarian mandibles that looked fused into two that looked identical to those of a Turian. She almost had to sigh in relief. Only eye cover would be needed and he would be indistinguishable from the average Turian. She sighed in frustration that it would have to be that way, but it was for his safety. After things settled down they would be freer to allow him into the world.

She noticed that Telicos had not shifted his head to look at the screen and her brow furrowed.

"He is on complete biological lockdown, _Va_'Vakarian. He has lost standard consciousness so that he can protect you. The shots I keep administering are to make sure that he does not attack any of the medical staff that are required to be present to monitor you and your child, because he will try to kill anything that you or he perceives as a threat. He will 'awake' in a few days' time just before your child is born to aid the birth," Coros explained.

"I see," Solana finally managed, "he is beautiful," she added motioning to the monitor.

"I agree," Coros said.

"Miraculous," Mordin added from the other side of the room where he was working on something.

"Honoress sends her regards," Coros was looking at his holotool, "you have a bright future _Va_'Vakarian. There is no greater honor than a stable and well-founded family. And _Var_'Varist is about as good as they come. Your infant, according to scans, is healthy and growing according to the… _Turi'an_ physiology. Just relax and find peace."

In that moment she forgot everything and let what he said sink in. Her mind dumped out the fact that her mate was not a turian, that her son was to be a hybrid, and that there were stigmas and prejudice that they would have to face later. For now she could only focus on how relieved and reassured she was by his words, and how her future really was bright.


	32. Spirit of Miracles

School man... its ramping up n' shit. And I've lost a lot of my drive to write. Here's another chapter.

* * *

Val woke up comfortably wrapped around her mate, reveling in the luxury of sleeping like that. Ilus was already looking at her as she opened her eyes.

"You are so tranquil when you sleep, Cor'a," he purred. She shifted against and buried her face into the soft skin of his neck. If only she could eat that voice of his.

He lowered their bodies from the bed and dropped back to his feet. She really wanted more of him hard and fast and immediately, but he had to go. She would be left to her duties as well, one of which was to monitor her best friends and former student's impossible child. She checked her holotool and found a new message from Tare'an reporting the safe and successful return of the pair to the hospital. Val sent Coros a message giving her regards and wishing him luck with his patient. She also sent a myriad of medical data from her old omni-tool's data that would hopefully help him out.

She knew that they had brought a Salarian there as well who apparently knew volumes about Turian physiology. She wished only the best for those two.

Ilus gave her one last kiss before leaving without saying another word. He did not need to. She left her markings bright just for good measure before hiding them away, keeping her identity relatively undercover for the time being. She placed the same crest on her head, the very same one from one of her early years on Eval'en. It felt like so much time had passed between then and now.

She dressed into her Sicarian formalwear and mentally prepared herself for the day she would have to face. What she and Ilus were doing was unheard of; once bonded, Sicarians did not separate. It was that simple. Already Val was able to feel the withdrawal effects of his pheromones and his superconscious thrum. Of course, that did not come without the multitudes of regret and guilt she felt for nearly being the cause of his death. For not being able to recognize the signs earlier.

She had an _office_ now. She had to laugh behind her teeth a little; she never thought that she would ever end up buried in political obligations for a race that she had relatively only recently joined. Her word was received on the same order of authority as Oracle's, and she was considered a member of the Council of the 100th. The only difference between them was the realm of their command. Honoress was more politics and public relations, which was the opposite of what she would _like_ to be doing. She was more technically minded and would rather be working for technologic innovation than brokering relations amongst the Sicarian peoples.

She stood there in her room as staff and other political upper-ups filtered in and out, giving her information personally and speaking with her about irrelevant things. When she was not being spoken at she was monitoring everything from her holostation. Updates, orders, requests, logistics, everything.

It would proceed the same way for the rest of the month. The same monotony; the sluggishness. She could fool all of humanity with her disguise, yet they still refused to step up to speaking terms. Val knew that the galactic community was fueling off of the war, but they were all so horribly misguided. She knew that their hospitals were overflowing at this point. The non-lethality mandate that she had requested of Oracle and his father when he was alive was really taking its toll. So many were actually dying because medical supplies were shorting out; the corrupt were being saved and replenished, and the poor and forgiving were left to die.

In this regard she would have no problem if the entirety of the galaxy was wiped of their corruptions, but they were also the key to the survival of her race. Sicarian-kind required that cultural influx to want to live for longer.

But, without a doubt, if she ordered them to start killing, her forces would. And it would be devastating, apocalyptic. Like dust against cosmic wind would they struggle, but they would be swept away before the Sicarians.

She shook her head, telling herself to stop thinking like a Sicarian for long enough to resolve some kind of peace. But it was tricky; genocide…_cleansing_ was becoming more and more appealing and she could not explain why.

* * *

"I know you'd hate it Aevia, but you have to push the hierarchy to get off their asses and convince the rest of us that it is pointless to continue fighting them. The Shepards aren't around and they were like our other half, but I'm sure as can be that you have the strength to move the tides here."

Aevia sighed. "I don't know what to say. I have this sinking feeling that nothing we do will overcome whatever the hell is going on. I'm not too particularly worried about our people, Avarus. We already have a standing agreement with them, mind you secretly, and if need be we can formalize it. I will talk to the Primarch and see what I can do, but I can't make any promises. Humanity was different, Avarus. The galactic community took pity on them because they could barely stand up to our forces, despite what people seemed to think. These Sicarians, they laid waste to a human fleet. Granted, that was after the human fleet had been firing at them without end for an hour. But there is no pity… I think people think that they are here to destroy the galaxy. And therefore they want to see to it that they are wiped out."

She paused to teak a breath.

"But they are _no different _than us. They just want a place in the community and so far, the only thing that we have accomplished is convincing them that we are all hell-bent on fighting them to our last. And even if that's the Turian, and indeed the Human way as we have seen, I would not be surprised if they did decide to kill all of us. And they could."

"Aevia," Avarus said worriedly, "you can't talk like that."

"You're the one who has been having nightmares about it!" she exclaimed and then looked away ashamed of her outburst, "I hate to see you going through this."

"Having a family really changed my outlook. Black Ops… well… I always say that I'm glad you didn't know me during or before Black Ops. Back then I would have seen this as an opportunity to prove the prowess of Black Ops. I would have no problem killing off as many as possible… but, I suppose I have to tell you. I was overwatch for the ground troops at Defense of Concordia, which, I should add, was _not_ a defense in the slightest. They left. They would have slaughtered us… anyway a ring of dropships land creating a wall between the line and a central craft. A pair of beings leave. I want to send a warning shot downrange and hit its… _his_ neck. He drops. I shot someone's mate right in front of her Aevia. Black Ops… I wouldn't have batted a mandible, but now… I put myself in his place… Spirits the way she looked at me, it was the only time I have felt fear."

Aevia nuzzled into her mate's neck comfortingly. In the pit of her stomach an intense fear grew that someone was specifically seeking out her mate to pay back the pain he had caused twofold. She did not want to see him thrust back into a war in which he would be threatened with prejudice like that. Although, something told her that no matter the status of the war, he would be hunted like prey.

"I'll talk to the Primarch," she said quietly, "try and get him to talk to Sparatus. Maybe he can convince the other councilors that they should tear their heads out of their asses."

They were both silent for a few moments before Aevia leaned her head back against his chest and they fell back to sleep.

The next morning after their routine wakeup session of slower, more practiced lovemaking and then a shower, Aevia held her word and contacted the Primarch to see what could be done, if anything, about actual diplomacy. She was willing to put her life on the line if it meant that relations could be improved, and she was willing to be extremely rude and pushy to cause change to occur, even if it meant marching straight into the councilors' meeting room and yelling at them.

She was able to reach the Primarch with ease. Her status as a well-known and higher-up member of the hierarchy allowed her to butt in.

"Primarch Victus," she stated upon seeing his face through the holoscreen.

"Aevia Vakarian, a pleasure. What is the reason that you call?"

"Something has to be done about the damn war, the proverbial slaughter, and it has to be different than what is currently being done about it."

"I realize that, _Praea_ Vakarian. My best Alfa Dexteras units are working on that," Aevia's mind instantly snapped to her son, "This is not a normal war, _Praea_. For whatever reason, when humanity entered the galaxy and that conflict was resolved quickly, there were still a lot of leftover special interest groups that were about ready to take control. This opportunity, so soon after the Conflict, was their jumping off point. As of right now, it is impossible to reach a peaceful point because there is currently no one in power under their own possession; including Sparatus. Which is a shame. I may have to resort to drastic measures to fix that. At any rate, the units are clearing these groups faster and faster. We are heading towards a turning point, but it may be another month or two before that happens."

"That's not good enough Primarch," she started.

"Rarely anything is good enough for you _Praea_ Vakarian," he replied, a slightly sultry tone.

"Listen, get them and us talking and publicize the life out of it. If we threaten the galactic community with an alliance then they will be pressured into doing something themselves. An alliance between the Turian Heirarchy and The Sicarian… hierarchy would _not_ be something that the galactic community would want to face."

"That is extremely risky, _Praea-_"

"Nothing is accomplished without taking risks. And quite frankly I cannot just sit back and watch as the rest of the galaxy is destroyed and we keep lying about our casualty numbers just to keep appearances."

"I'll consider it-"

"You _will_ decide within a week," Aevia cut him off.

The young Primarch, younger than she, stared blankly for a moment before nodding.

"I will do everything in my power to arrange something. But there are inhibitors that continue to make something like that almost impossible. I am not a miracle worker, _Praea_ Vakarian, I can't make others believe what you or I want them to. But I'll try… because I want to see this war ended as soon as possible."

The connection was closed and Aevia sank back, distraught that action was not really a plausible option. But then again, she could tell herself that she really expected something to be decided right then. Her tactic was to strong arm the bar far too high to be realistic, and then accomplish her actual goal by seeming to knock it down a few notches.

She was satisfied that the Primarch had admitted to trying to progress things.

* * *

Mordin Solus was listening to the Sicarian Doctor, Sevist Coros, describe the Sicarian birthing process and becoming increasingly… intrigued. Luckily his patient would not have to endure quite that level off… interesting-ness. The infant was a Turian in form, which meant that she would not have to go through anything to particularly different in terms of the birthing. And, of course, nothing particularly different would have to be done to take care of the infant. Sicarian females breast-fed, which would have been problematic for her if the infant were completely Sicarian.

Solana Vakarian was currently halfway through her ten-day pregnancy. At this point her completely instinct-controlled mate had done nothing but kneel next to her, caressing and massaging where it hurt, and regularly administering the biochemically based painkiller that his body produced.

Mordin noted the locations on Varist's neck where the glands had begun to swell up in preparation for the crucial moment. He would end up injecting almost two liters of an intensely concentrated pleasure endorphin that would counteract the pain of childbirth.

The swell under Solana's stomach had grown significantly; while the infant was Turian in appearance, they had deduced that it would develop at much the same rate as a Sicarian. Proportional to a standard eight month gestation cycle, the infant was by all accounts healthy. He had begun to exhibit micro-movements and neural activity. Sevist said that already his superconscious, which Mordin found absolutely extraordinary, had found a link to his father's and his mother's. It was the only way that he would be able to tell his parents that he was hungry or tired, because Sicarian infants were not born with a set of vocal cords or _sonos_… what they called the complex bone on the front of their chest that could emit whatever sound they could think of.

And of course he had asked why they did not exploit that and mimic the voices of others to pose as anyone they wanted. Mordin learned the Sicarian definition of rape, which was the use of the sophisticated vocal system to betray another into believing in a false identity. Now they had technology which could detect imperfections in replication, but before that, the punishment was typically death if found out. In fact, the punishment was _still_ death. Mordin had a bad feeling that they would do poorly with the concept of forced intercourse, the definition used by the galactic community.

It was around that time that he had received word that the prosthesis project had been completed and successfully tested on a Turian subject who had taken quite well to the new prosthesis. Solana could only groan in acknowledgement when he informed her, but he knew that underneath the soreness she was beaming. Her work was integral and they could finally begin to relieve some of the pain of limb loss.

And, of course, that led Doctor Coros to ask him what this project was about, "if he chose to divulge on it."

And that led Mordin to discover that the Sicarians had perfected the prosthesis process _thousands_ of years prior. He had stared blankly for a moment before the information fully sank in. The race as whole was so new that he had not expected much from them. But they were not in the galaxy to uplift themselves, but to remove their perfection. They needed something greater into which to integrate. A purpose. The race was dying right now. In all their glory they were on verge of extinction. It was perverse.

He had nearly become too close to ignoring his patient and cut himself off from the thoughts of what other mysteries held by the new race.

* * *

Oracle twitched. He knew he would be able to go about five or six more day cycles before he started to have repression. And he finally understood what the last four lines of the one prophesy signified.

But fear yet, for she will never love you,  
The way you love her.  
O, but she will love you still  
With her entire being; Fallen Light.

Her connection was different enough to allow for their separation. Bizarre, yet just as strong as any he could imagine. As a pair they were both more independent and more dependent than the average; a paradox which had its advantages and drawbacks. _His_, however, was relatively normal… and it bothered him constantly.

He was currently talking with the Turian Primarch, who held an equivalent position of power amongst his people, the Turians.

"Primarch I do not know how much control you have over the other races, but if they do not cease their poking and prodding at our forces then we will not hesitate to demonstrate lethality. We want to avoid subjugation, but believe me Primarch, ours is a history of extermination, assimilation, and absolutism. If there is a problem then we completely destroy it and everything around it for kilometers. Unethical, I know, but I cannot help but think it. It is our nature and has been for the last ten thousand years. We would have little problem doing the same to those who do not cooperate."

The Turian shifted uneasily.

"I would love to do _something_, Oracle, but we aren't dealing with people here… we are dealing with business ventures, special interest groups, ideas. These ventures… they are like mindless, soulless, heartless demon spirits. They do nothing but lust for money and power, and the ends _always_ justify the means. Propaganda is phenomenal, Oracle, you should see how your people are portrayed by some. It's completely atrocious… But it _works_, effectively. You could start slaughtering everyone, and there would always be more zealots to take their place. One more terrorist group to destroy the people it tries to protect. One more business empire that capitalizes on the deaths and the pain."

Oracle let the information mull about in his head before responding.

"Then destroy the business empires."

"Don't you understand?" the Primarch sounded exasperated, "Corruption is impossible to overcome."

"As a race we have overcome it," Oracle said simply, speaking the truth but knowing that the Primarch would not believe it, "granted, the way we accomplished that was with time and extreme prejudice."

"I am truly afraid of your history, Oracle, if what you imply is really true. Turians are seen as the military might of the galaxy. We have the most disciplined troops, the largest and most advanced military, the most brilliant of tacticians… when the Humans came and we held our title. Now here you are… and I doubt that we can keep it. But at what cost have you attained a race-wide perfection?"

"With respect to what we know about the other galactic races… about nine thousand six hundred years ago the population of our planet was cut in half by a nuclear holocaust. Has your race experienced anything like that?"

The Primarch stared blankly at him for a few moments, the shock was evident in his posture and subharmonics.

"Mind you, that was only one among a few like it."

"I can't fathom such a thing," the Primarch looked up and responded.

"Our people are not afraid of death, Primarch, but we always die in pairs. And we die only after we have taken as many of the enemy with us. Because when you kill one Sicarian, there is always another that will seek vengeance. And until they have delivered as much pain and suffering as possible they will become stronger. I find it a miracle that my Agents have even remained loyal to my commands. Captain Virkel of _Honoress_ was not to particularly happy when the System's Alliance fleet opened fire upon his mate."

"I don't follow what you mean. Is that figurative speech, or…"

"_Honoress_ is controlled by an AI; she is sentient. She is mated with her captain."

"An AI? _Mated_? Spirits… I don't want to believe you Oracle, but I don't think you would ever lie to me."

"Lying is punishable by death. So no, I would very much like to keep my life about me. I have much to look forward to, a mate of my own to serve."

They both had a moment of reprise before returning to the matters at hand. The Primarch spoke first.

"We need to meet. Either you and I directly, person to person, or via representatives. And it needs to be heavily publicized. I hope to pressure the other races into agreeing to accords by threatening them with an alliance they could never overcome."

"You wish to formalize our alliance? Make it known? That seems quite dangerous," Oracle thought aloud, "you risk making yourselves the enemy of the entire galactic community."

"Well, to put in the words of a very wise woman: 'nothing is accomplished without taking risks.'"

Oracle nodded in agreement, which he realized was a gesture that he had picked up from _Val_.

"Definitely. When can this event be placed then?" Oracle asked, getting ready not make a note and communicate with _Val_.

"As soon as your fleet clears one of our transport cruisers for peaceful entry."

"I can do that right now," Oracle answered. The Primarch paused for a moment before responding.

"Okay… allow me to contact my captain," he tapped the glowing ring around his wrist a few times, paused, then tapped some more. After a few minutes of silence came the reply.

"Alright. Encryption has been pushed to you and one of my diplomatic cruisers. Open your sensors, or whatever detection protocols you may have, and search for it. I estimate that it will take a week to reach your location, and I do not want you to move from where you are stationed. Your moves are watched more than ours, your moves are questioned more than ours. However, we request that you prepare to open fire in the direction of our craft. I cannot trust that we will be completely alone by the time we arrive. There are plenty of moles and watchers who would jump to interrupt a meeting like this."

"Of course Primarch," Oracle replied. A few seconds later he received the encryption key, which was quite primitive, and he pushed the data to _Honoress_, who began to scan for it even though the diplomatic cruiser would not be there for a few days.

"I must leave promptly, Oracle, if I am to make it on to that the cruiser as it traverses the Trebia system. I will personally meet you. I will bring a diplomatic spirit with me as well; she is miracle-worker."

"Thank you Primarch Victus, and extend my regards to this 'spirit' of yours," Oracle finished actually using the Primarch's clan name for effect. He bowed forward slightly and flared his crest in respect. The line cut there.

Oracle finally felt like they were going to get somewhere. However, if the other races refused to cooperate, he would draw the Turians into alliance and together they would simply wipe out the ignorants.

* * *

The large wall screen that allowed her to monitor everything that she needed to notified her of news. She was shocked to read that Oracle had successfully arranged a meeting with the Primarch of Palaven in person.

She supposed that if it had to be anyone, the Turians would be the first to act. They were the closest in mindset to the Sicarians. However, they were usually only able to think in terms of war and law. She knew their history; when there was a problem they completely destroyed it and everything around it for kilometers. The genophage was a good example of that.

She had a hunch that none other than Aevia Vakarian was orchestrating this in some way. She had direct connections to the Primarch and maybe a few decades of age as well. She generally knew exactly what to do all the time, so naturally in a time of crisis such as this the Primarch would put her in charge, behind the scenes of course.

They wanted this meeting to be broadcasted to the general public. It was both effective and risky. The galaxy would not be able to afford an alliance between the Turians and the Sicarians and they would be forced to cooperate if they were to keep themselves in some position of power or _existence_. That was pretty decent plan. Val seriously considered presenting herself to the Primarch for effect. If it truly was to be broadcasted, then her appearance would rock the galactic community.

But how her appearance was dealt with was a complete unknown.

She turned her attention back to Solana. She was on the verge of bringing the galaxy's first real miracle into existence. That night would be her last before motherhood. Val made up her mind that she would go see Solana in person to check up on her and make sure that her child was all right. She would also take the opportunity to bring them some kind of binding crests to temporarily mark them until she could get them a proper binding ceremony. She would give them a few days of privacy with their child before she would visit them.

* * *

Mordin, Coros, and Coros' mate worked together like a well-oiled machine. They were hours away from her expected time of delivery. The infant had become quite active quite quickly, and more than once they had feared it would tear the womb, a very difficult feat for a Turian baby inside a Turian womb. Her plates had cracks in multiple locations from the rapid growth, but that was all about to be over.

Solana was high on her mate's pain-killer and her level of coherence was next to nothing. She would come down, however, in time to give birth and invest her mind and her body in the birth of their son. Mordin, and indeed Coros and his mate were trying their best to keep their excitement to themselves.

The baby was truly a hybrid. His heartbeat was a flat line thanks to the heart and lung cords in replacements of the standard Turian pulmonary and cardiovascular system. He had Sicarian eyes, a Sicarian immune system, a Sicarian tongue, superconscious, muscles groupings… In every sense of the word he _was_ a Sicarian that grew into the shape of a Turian.

The infant was healthy and strong and ready to leave his mother. Everything was optimal at that moment and the promise of a successful birth was guaranteed.

Coros kept glancing up at Varist and clicking with his supervocals. He would have to come to in the last crucial moments to help his mate, otherwise she may be subjected to more pain than her nervous system had capacity for and pass out. That would cut the whole process short and risk her own life and her baby's life. And her mate's life if she died giving birth.

"Vir'a, is _Var_'Varist about awake?" Coros finally asked nervously. He was cutting it quite close.

"His vitals are shifting and I can feel his superconscious waking up," his mate responded, "he _should_ be nearly conscious. Another ten minutes."

Coros gave a nervous trill.

"That is cutting quite close."

"Better than cutting it altogether," his mate countered.

Mordin half listened to their conversation as he closely monitored the state of Solana and her infant's vitals. Her heart was beating faster as it should have, and she was taking in deeper breaths as her system prepared itself. She was almost there.

Mordin glanced at Varist, who not had two pretty noticeable swells beneath the scaly skin of his neck. This particular mixture was completely different that the standard painkiller; it incited a state of super-awareness, potent adrenaline, rather than doping the mind like it had been. It _did_ act like a pain killer, however, and it would probably make Solana feel completely numb for an entire day afterwards until her body metabolized it away.

Solana had been properly briefed on some of the key elements of Sicarian infants and the birthing process and found it… interesting. This is, of course, when she was coherent enough to mumble a few words of acknowledgement.

They continued their clipped banter until finally, just minutes away from birth, her mate came to and began to facilitate the process.

* * *

Varist looked down. Only moments before he had lost his consciousness so it was like no time had passed between then and now. His lenses shifted and his markings exploded into light when he realized what was going on. His hand flew to his neck where he felt the swollen glands beneath the skin. He was prepared to do what he needed to do. His mate had just minutes before she was to bring their son into the world.

His mate was in pain and he was there to remedy that. Their son was ready; he could feel the new link that he and their son shared. How he wanted out.

He waited exactly fifty two seconds and then he acted, still running on residual instinct. He did not know anything about his mate's culture, but went ahead and assumed that what he was about to do would be incredibly bizarre. Even Sicarians described it as strange. But he had to do it if he wanted to rid her of pain.

He winced a little and did what he had to do. He leaned into his mate's lips, spread his jaw open and used his mandibles to pry her jaw open so that it would not be able to snap shut. She seemed to awaken from her stupor and focus on the kiss of life. Her subharmonics flew into a frenzy.

His tongue shot all the way to the back of her throat and she tried to bite down in surprise and shock. His mandibles kept her razor teeth from severing the tongue. He had to steady her head with a firm grasp to keep her from jerking away. The fangs on the end of his tongue slipped under the skin back there. The appendage swelled as it flowed with the specialized concoction of stimulant and painkiller, injecting the fluid into the area close to the spinal column. He watched her pupils dilate as he pumped all two liters of liquid into her system.

The fangs retracted and then his tongue snapped back into its cavity. He slowly slipped his mandibles from their position, allowing her jaw to close slowly instead of snapping shut.

"They told me…" she panted, "about this… and yet I had no idea how… sudden…"

Telicos comforted her with his subvocals.

"Breathe, Cor'a, concentrate, our son is nearly here," he murmured close to her head.

Her abdomen convulsed with the first contraction. Telicos gripped her hand as her nervous system ceased to allow her to feel pain. She could still feel the pressure of his reassuring grasp and the vibrations from his purr, but none of the pain that would have afflicted her.

Three contractions later and their son was forced from the womb and into the waiting hands of Doctor Solus. The tiny baby was quickly bundled and handed to the pair. Telicos' wings instinctively extended and surrounded his mate and their infant. He sensed a tremendous amount of superconscious activity from their son before even having the chance to lay his focus upon him.

Then he focused on their son.

* * *

The last few days had been hell. She was sore when she was not delirious from the chemicals that Telicos constantly pumped into her. When she slept he was right by her side purring and cooing and stroking her, but never able to talk or communicate. It was terrifying and she had felt so isolated even when he was right at her side.

But now…

Solana felt a wave of pleasure as she held her infant in her hands and her mate surrounded them with safety. If there was ever a perfect moment, one that made her forget all the rest, it was there. She looked into her mate's gemstone eyes, which were bright and beautiful yellow to contrast the aqua scales. The lenses shifted in their sockets and the look of every positive emotion she could think of was engraved into his features. His subvocals played out a song of happiness and love.

Had she not been briefed on all the norms for Sicarian infants she would have taken their son's silence in the wrong, but his playful squirming and flashing of subdermal markings were signs that he was very much alive and strong. He was without a large cowl and would always lack a keel bone, instead having the _sonos_ that Sicarians possessed. He had Sicarian heart and lung cords and matching vents on the back of his neck to match.

His plates were silvery like hers, the softer skin beige, but at the ends of his stumpy spurs and still miniscule fringes and mandibles there was aqua. Although she did not know he would even possess the subdermal markings, those and his eyes were golden like his father's, just as she had predicted they would be. The markings and the eyes looked strangely at home on the carapace and skin of the infant Turian. The Turian-Sicarian hybrid.

The little infant flared his mandibles, all four twitching out in different directions, then let them settle back down, looking exactly like two again. He worked his jaw a little.

Solana had been a little surprised to find out that he would not need to eat anything for the next few days, as the drugs that her mate had been constantly administering also contained concentrated amounts of nutrients. This was their way of dealing with a potential lack of food when they were born. Now they simply waited a day before feeding the infant, allowing the youngling to grow accustomed to its other five senses besides taste.

The little Turian-shaped Sicarian curled up and fit snugly beneath her chin and keel bone, resting on the soft skin there. Telicos touched his baby boy gingerly. The small three-fingered hand wrapped around one of his fingers. Strong grasp already. All three of them were purring.

Solana could not even begin to fathom her own internal peace and happiness in that moment, but her body could and did. A tear duct tore open and released a single azure tear that rolled gracefully down her cheek. She felt no pain as her entire nervous system was still coursing with the painkiller. Telicos tenderly wiped the tear away and breathed out his scent onto both of them.

Telicos wrapped his wings around her and lifted her away from the bed, her legs were stiff from disuse, but the doctors had her doing various muscle exercises when she was not delirious with the soreness of her hyper-expanded back and cracked plates.

He moved her into a room on the side, pushing past the doctors who dutifully removed themselves from the room to let them have their peace. Apparently they had enough sensors packed into the room that they could monitor all three of them at once without having to be there.

He spun her around so that the now sleeping infant was safely guarded between them and hoisted them up to the bed on the ceiling.

Tomorrow their problems would come back. Their fears, their pains, their disturbances, but until then she relished the feeling of the soft breeze of her mate's constant breath in addition to her son's.

* * *

Telicos felt Solana drop off to sleep shortly after securing them. He had not been at all surprised that the infant took the form of his mother's species; it simply made more sense. The baby was quite tiny, but he would grow up to be tall and tall. But he was taken by how much of the both of them were balanced and combined in the living representation of their union. Their little boy.

Their child was happy. He purred and exuded happy thoughts of safety and pleasure as he slept between the warmth and protection of their bodies. Telicos held back his pride for the sake of his modesty, but oh was it there. Their son was going to completely ascend above all others, the strengths of both their races and the weaknesses of neither.

He wondered how his parents would take the news.

* * *

Honoress sat back in her chair and did nothing to suppress the tears of joy that came forth when she read the news of the hybrid child and even saw three-dimensional pictures of him. She could not be happier for both of them for finding a connection and transcending the war and race and even modern science.

She had already ordered crests for both of them made from the highest grade material she could find. She would personally modify Solana's to fit her head so that no one would think to question any odd dimensions she had ordered. Even though she _knew_ that they would never question her, even think to, it was the last remnant of her human side still attached to her like a cancerous tumor. She could never fully accept the trustworthiness of anyone. There was always a nagging sense of paranoia and she hated it.

She rose from her chair and her spine cracked. She groaned and massaged her back. She had noticed a quite dramatic increase in her own height since she and Ilus had started to sleep together. Among other things the markings had completely finished coming in, as had Ilus' cool-blue crest. She felt an increased need to check on him to make sure that he was safe and could _always_ tell when females were focusing on him more than they should.

She had gone in to see Senatas Coros a few times since she had started to notice the more drastic changes. He attributed these changes to the… more concentrated exchange of Sicarian DNA, which was surprisingly euphemistic for someone like Coros, who usually just said it like it was.

She had about finished changing. She resembled herself six years prior, but much more mature. She could still remember seeing herself in the mirror in those dreams; she looked exactly like she did now. There were some changes that her mind had not foreseen however: Ilus' markings being one. Her scapulae he became slightly sharper around the edges and her clavicles more pronounced. Her waist had narrowed slightly. Perhaps unnoticeable, but her pelvis had developed a complete separation starting from the spine. This amounted to more flexibility and the ability to kick Tare'an to the mat every time. It also predictably made intercourse much more comfortable for her.

Her weight maxes had shot up but her musculature remained compact. She had become the killer she needed to be.

She thought little of it now and returned to assisting Oracle, Ilus, in leading the planet.

* * *

Solana awoke. Telicos was already awake and watching both her and their baby boy sleep. It had a profound calming effect on him.

"I apologize if I was supposed to do or say something obligated by your culture, I was simply too stunned and overwhelmed with warmth and happiness to speak," Telicos stated.

"there is no… official protocol. But even if there was, Telicos, am I really one to call you out? You're already perfect as it is."

"No one is perfect. Except you," he quickly added in and then groaned, "I see what you mean. But he, our son, _is _perfect. Perfection manifest."

"You speak highly of him and you've only known him for a few hours."

"How much detail did the Doctor give you on Sicarian reproduction?"

"Nothing more than what I would need to know to keep our son alive…"

"Well, I will try to abstain from describing anything too graphic, but during the… lock, the mother's DNA is extracted, biologically tested for weaknesses, then the strongest genes from both are hybridized and re-deposited. Only the strengths are passed down, and none of the weaknesses. _Kel'vares ilus_."

"What was that?"

"Oh, I apologize. It is an idiom that does not quite directly translate. But it means 'he is superior.'"

"We will see."

She shifted closer to him, moving their sleeping child slightly to a more comfortable spot.

"What should we name him?" Solana asked quietly.

"Caius," he pronounced.

"R-really?" Solana gawked. She had been thinking was "Gaius," but what he suggested was certainly Turian, just a common variation of the name meaning the same thing: "spirit of miracles."

"It is what you were thinking, well, close. I agreed with you and said what you were thinking."

"That's not fair Telicos," Solana pouted, "what if it's not what you want?"

"He deserves a Turian name. He _is_ half Turian after all."

"Does it mean anything?"

"What?" the question she had suddenly asked came out of nowhere.

"Does Caius mean anything in your tongue?" she asked, remembering what he said about her name.

"Based on the standard vocals… _Cai_ typically means strength, both physical and mental, and _us_ is outward… or… outward facing… it is difficult to explain. _Caius_ is a very archaic combination of syllables meaning: projecting an aura of mental and physical strength."

"Then shall we call him Caius?" Solana tried her best to recreate the Sicarian subharmonics but knowing it was impossible.

"Of course. It suits him quite nicely, as would any name. Caius Vakarian of Varist you shall be, little one," he said speaking to his son, his subvocals vibrating through both of them. The infant's eyes sparked as if he recognized the name already, and he turned his tiny Turian head to meet his father's gaze. He yawned and showed off his already sharpened but miniature teeth. He trilled once on his supervocals in acknowledgement.

Spirit of miracles.


	33. Splitting the Atom

Alright I hope this is all fine and good n shit...

Also I would like to thank "I can't wait until the next chapter" because they've been here since pretty much the first chapter.

* * *

When the Primarch called, naturally Aevia Vakarian picked up immediately.

"Yes Primarch?"

"I have arranged a meeting with their leader, who calls himself Oracle. I would like for you to accompany me. It will only be a week or so, just long enough to get a ship out to a rendezvous, meet up with the Oracle, and return."

Aevia considered this for a moment. Avarus would be able to survive on his own. She certainly worried about his solitude and what that meant for him. They had not been separated since they had moved out to Concordia, and she felt that parting now would incite some kind of curse on her. But it was just going to be a few days. Ten days, maybe fewer.

"Alright, let me tell Avarus," she said. Her hesitance bled through her subharmonics.

"I know you have not separated since… well since before I was born, but this is simple, easy. Do not worry, tell him not to worry. We need him to continue to help direct operations."

She sent the message and hoped for the best. When the Primarch's cruiser passed through their system she would be picked up. That would be within the next few days.

"Alright Primarch, I will get back to you. Avarus has been suffering some trauma and I would prefer to be accessible if he needs me."

"Very well, Aevia. I understand."

She knew that he did not really understand. The young Victus had yet to actually find a mate and have firsthand experience with real feelings. Avarus always joked that there was nothing weaker than a Turian in love. Unfortunately he was quite right. And he suffered from it.

She got her response from him promptly and was surprised to see that he was permitting her to leave on diplomacy by herself. Her mandibles flicked into a smirk. She knew that he was only trying to avoid having to undergo formalities and awkward first impressions. He was better suited to his current position than accompanying her. Though she knew if it were a longer trip that he would have accompanied her.

She also preferred that he stay right where he was in case whoever was hunting him was at the meeting. Of course, that put her in danger, because they shared markings. She would immediately become a target or leverage to coax him out. She would just have to trust that the Sicarians would have the decency to prevent something like that from happening.

She sent a confirmation back to the Primarch who responded in acknowledgement.

She sighed. Three days from then she was picked up by the Primarch's cruiser. They headed off towards the rendezvous out in the middle of nowhere.

* * *

Garrus finally had time to look at the list he had sent off noticing that there were some quite important people on there who had ties or direct communications with the Shadow Broker. He growled. There was at least one Turian, Asari, Salarian, and Human military commander associated with the Broker, so assassinating them in front of a crowd of other military upper-ups would not go over to well. The sheer number of Broker Agents present on the meeting floor made him question the number of privately-contracted politicians belonging to other terrorist groups. He was tempted to have the meeting called apart for the sake of preserving the opportunity for a real interaction later.

The squad of six Turians, one Drell, and one Sicarian moved into the building through exit four-C, which would bring them in directly behind the Sicarian group, who were the allies right now. From there they would be able to skirt around the room through the ventilation and other hallways to look for bugs and enemy agents, as well as set up flanks in the event that something went south. He predicted such a thing was highly likely at the rate they were discovering terrible information.

Garrus started every time he looked at B's vitals on his monitor. No heartbeat, thermals critically low, barely any oxygen intake through the helmet. Sometimes there was no oxygen intake registered altogether.

"_Honoress_ has detected multiple unknown devices around the premises of your holotool, Commander," B informed, "all of which are short range and self-contained. They must be destroyed by hand to prevent data from being transferred out mechanically. _Honoress_ has located their locations on the nav."

Krios was the first to actually interact verbally.

"Thank you, Agent B, I will move around and take out marker two,"

Castus went next.

"I've got marker four," which was closest to their current location.

The two of them broke off from the main squad and promptly disappeared.

"Oh Spirits," muttered Garrus, taking a look at what other sort of "unknown" devices there were on the floor. Disregarding the guards of multiple species who had registered and checked weaponry, bugs and wires were everywhere. Plastic explosives were packed into all kinds of objects on multiple people, some of which Garrus knew were the victims of said explosives.

Garrus refused to let any of the legitimate, innocents on the floor to become compromised by the corruption of the others. He would have no choice but to send word to Division and the Sicarian high command about this and have the meeting called off before it could really even start. The earlier the better. The less information exchanged the safer they would remain.

_Expect the worst, plan for the worst, and hope for the worst so everything goes according to plan._ They had _expected_ there to be a bomb, a big one. They had _expected_ everyone to be carrying life-threatening weaponry. A bio-weapon. A meeting full of terrorists, mercs. A shooting gallery.

They were well-prepared to deal with this. It could be worse in any number of ways. As always, any chaos that arose was nothing that they could not overcome.

Garrus sent warnings out to the Sicarian high command and Division about what was going on. High command was shocked because every being on the floor had been discreetly scanned on the way in which meant someone must have slipped these additional devices in later. And whoever they were, they were certainly sophisticated enough to slip past the far superior Sicarian continuous scanning processes and install all sorts of problems. Granted, some of the identified devices were not seen as threats; simply "unknown." But Garrus knew better. Apparently so did B. Must be a tech guy.

With Krios and Castus gone, the remaining five approached the rear guard of the Sicarian political team. The one standing in the center seemed to tilt his head just slightly, head engulfed by a helmet.

"Captain," the black armor-clad figure greeted B. _Captain?_ Garrus knew that he was talking to B, which, of course, meant that B was a _captain_. Suddenly he felt awkward ordering someone around who possessed a stature such as that.

"Has Honoress received the information yet?"

"She has, but she is the middle of some important discussion with her sister."

"I see. I was under no assumption that her sister would be present."

"Neither was she."

"Then let them have their time, but we really do need to leave, Captain Virkel. I hope Honoress knows that."

"She does. She is fully capable of handling it herself. No being present in the room is stronger, faster, or more powerful than she. And if I am not mistaken, she is wearing her formal armor. She was obviously prepared for something to go wrong. Of course, if she decides she has had enough, Oracle and Imperator Tare'an are ample protection for her, or rather, she is ample protection for they. What I am quite concerned about is how close some of the aliens have come to triggering a protective response."

Garrus found the description of the situation oddly familiar, but he could not tell why. At least until they started talking about how this Honoress was simply superior to everyone in the room. He knew no one like that. Not even Ada was stronger than the average Sicarian.

"Salutations Agent," this Captain Virkel character seemed to be addressing Garrus directly, "can I be of any assistance?"

Garrus had no answer for him. Krios and Castus had taken out a substantial number of bugs since the beginning of the conversation. Some of them were harmless and part of standard building surveillance, some were highly-specialized stealth devices designed to avoid any kind of detection, no matter the strength.

"We have things under control here. It seems you are already aware of the issue," Garrus replied.

"With gratitude to you, of course," Virkel responded, "Honoress has been informed. We are waiting for her to finish talking with her sister before we take our leave-" his head twitched, Garrus assumed he was listening to an update through his helmet.

"Lights above, oh no," he muttered. The shorter, clearly female and armored Sicarian form next to him shifted uncomfortably. "Captain" B jerked his head up slightly.

"Commander, Agents Victus, Reventus, Kryik, and Levisian," B addressed them all properly, "please make way for Honoress and her guard. She is quite distraught and I would prefer that you keep your limbs about you."

Who was this "Honoress" that every Sicarian seemed to look up to, who was apparently far stronger than ever their top people, and was she doing in a political meeting instead of commanding military efforts or fighting in the front lines where she could do the most damage?

A few moments later an armored figure, far different from the others he had seen stalked past angrily followed immediately by one of the larger Sicarians. His expression was intense, rock grey features handsome even when scrunched up in displeasure. Garrus could feel a kind of buzz coming from around that figure, but it was the shorter female he was concerned about. Her armor had none of those elbow wings or the back wings, instead, it had shorter jutting protrusions in their place. Large, tapered, flat plates. But it was not her armor that concerned him, but her _face_.

This was a ghost, a spirit from long ago. This was none other than Val Shepard in the flesh and blood. Only, she was taller. A _lot_ taller. And damn if she did not have some fine curves on her as implied by the armor. What the hell happened? That was his Ada's _younger _sister and she looked more mature, more toned, _way_ taller. She had even inherited drop-dead beauty trait.

But there was something so alien in her gait, so predatory, too powerful to be contained in that weak body of hers.

He did not believe his eyes.

Suddenly the discussion the two had been having made perfect sense and none at all. How could _she_ be this "Honoress" they spoke so highly of? She was not even a Sicarian. How was she somehow stronger than they when she was only human. Even his Ada, in all her prowess, was no match for one of their best.

He stood there in shock for a few moments thinking only on the fact that the Honoress of the Sicarian people, which he assumed was an extremely high position. He did not even want to begin to make any stupid assumptions about how that had happened, but he did consider that it was possible that hers was the only pod to land on the planet six years ago. That meant that not only had she been cared for by whoever had found her, but integrated perfectly into their society. He was thoroughly impressed.

The Sicarians in the other room deployed an EMP charge strong enough to knock out all electronics. Apparently it was laced with something else, because the scanners ceased to register the explosives that had been considered a threat. No fair.

The noise of normal conversation mixed with surprise from the select few whose data bugs were no longer in existence, slowly peaked at a quite normal level. He heard Shepard brought up over and over numerous times. He heard many things… none of which regarded the resolution their war. Garrus was quite pissed-off but somewhat relieved that no one had to die, and that the Broker's stupid plan was broken on all levels.

People left the room within half an hour. Krios and Castus returned, reported a few casualties, and then fell into line in silence. Over his own thoughts, Garrus barely heard B talk.

"Thank you for allowing us to assist, Commander. Overwatch A and I will be departing from your service. I would very much like to serve with you and your squad again. The prowess of you and your squad is unrivaled."

Then he was gone.

Only then, after they had returned to their pickup, did Garrus realize that in order for Val to have talked to her sister, Ada, she had to have _been_ there. Ada had _been there_, and he had missed her.

He sighed and pulled a hand across his fringe. The mission could not really be considered successful, nor could it be a failure either. He was still disappointed in himself, and above all, confused to hell and back by the sudden appearance and frightening context of someone dead for nearly seven years now.

* * *

"Oh dear Spirits," Aevia cursed as the ship rocked and descended from FTL far too early and violently to be their destination, "Of course," she muttered, knowing exactly what was going on.

They were being stopped and attacked. She needed not worry, however, her children did not simply _learn_ their CQC prowess, they had inherited it from her. She could still her mate's ass when they sparred. That, and there was an entire crew of trained Turians between the enemy and their target, which was likely the Primarch, if she could make any guesses.

Aevia headed out into the hallway and hit the doorbell for the Primarch's cabin. The door opened and she was immediately knocked to the ground by the butt of a rifle. There must have been something in the air as well, because she never remembered losing consciousness so fast.

Oh the clever bastards. They had managed the most creative entry point she could think of, bypassing all of the threat and heading directly towards the center of the Primarch's cruiser. They had drilled a tunnel through the damn hull straight into his cabin and likely taken him. It was such a bizarre entry method that there were no countermeasures. Now they were taking her, whoever they were. At least they had not killed any of the other crew or downed the entire ship. That was actually smarter in a way, because it left behind no thermal evidence that there had even been a struggle. In other words, it would be extremely difficult for anyone to find this exact location and help them escape.

_Humans_. No shit. She growled before she lost consciousness completely.

* * *

Oracle growled. The Primarch's cruiser had sent out a distress signal. Now they were reporting that the Primarch and one of their most important passengers were _gone_, apparently without much struggle. _Honoress_ had immediately contacted him that their cruiser had faced a sudden and unplanned exit from FTL. He shuddered as he was reminded of the _SSV Startcutter_.

_Honoress _was barely able to pinpoint the encryption signal from the cruiser that they were supposed to receive and from there tag another in proximity just before it leapt away, tearing a sizeable hole in space-time as it traveled many times faster than the speed of light. The FTL mathematics were still being worked on by his top people, even when they had ample access to the existing data gleaned from the "extranet" and Honoress' old omni-tool. Actually applying it was something completely different altogether, as no one was going to simply had over the algorithms in a time of war.

But they were lucky. Extremely lucky. Had the flux been slightly less they would not have been able to track the direction in which the ship had fled. But they had it.

That, and apparently the Primarch's encryption signal was actually bound to the Primarch himself, not his cruiser. They managed to find the pulse and trace it, the location matched with the FTL calculations. The two had been taken quite far from where they were captured, and the space would be heavily guarded by Human craft.

Honoress stalked into the room. He was surprised to see her there so quickly after hearing about what had happened. She must have been informed as well.

"We are going to go get them. We are going to be sure you have your meeting," her teeth were clenched in anger. He shifted uncomfortably and forced himself to stop thinking about grabbing her and doing very inappropriate things to her. He knew it was too late when she rolled her eyes, an expression of hers that he had picked up meant exasperation, and responded by projecting all sorts of uncomfortable thoughts at him through her superconscious.

"Focus, Vir'a," she suddenly pulled him from his thoughts, "I have ordered armor to be made to my measurements. As soon as it arrives which should be within the day, we are taking a shuttle out to them."

He did not even think to question her.

"Of course Cor'a."

She took two steps forward. The first demonstrated everything predatory and lethal in her and the second showed her grace, beauty, and love for her mate. She was inside his personal space and staring up into his eyes with her crystal rings. They met halfway for a kiss before she stalked out of the room like the vicious predator she was. Oracle informed his Imperators of their plans. He was allotted a shuttle and small operational crew to would maintain the vessel while they traveled to the location of the Primarch and his diplomatic companion.

He could finally put his combat training to use. Oracle shifted his thoughts back to the other operations currently on the table. As much as he wanted to avoid scooping a hole out of a Salarian fleet that had been agitating one of his for the past few days he decided he was fed up with them and issued a warning shot.

When the offending fleet did not back off he mandated lethality towards it. They refused to give themselves a chance to back off even when fired upon, and for that they were decimated.

* * *

Her clothing had been washed completely and was just like new. However, nothing could really wash away the memories that clung to it like the threads that it was made from. She wanted a change of damn clothing, but there was not a damn thing she could do about it.

Solana was given a checkup the moment they stepped out of the room. The Doctors ordered Telicos around on various tasks that involved her. She was his and his alone to touch. They had her remove her clothing while her mate provided privacy with his wings and instructed him while they worked on preparing various healing salves, gels, and some documentation.

Solana continued to hold Caius as her mate spread a healing salve over her cracked plates and the exposed skin of her stomach. It acted fast, maybe even faster than the medi-gel they were given for combat situations, contracting some of the stretches and sealing up the cracks as if they were never there. Caius was awake now and resting comfortably against her neck and watched his father.

"I can tell that you have already come up with a name for the youngling," Coros' mate said suavely. Years and years of overseeing the birthing process and being involved in the few days of fallout had clearly given her a lot experience with this sort of thing. And despite one of her patients being a complete alien, she could still read something resembling thoughts from her, even if they were not as clear.

"Please allow me to guess," she had prepared the documentation on a new Sicarian holotool, which was going to replace the "omni-tool" that Solana had worn prior to coming to the planet, "Hm… the power and charisma of the aura, mind, body, and spirit," she thought to herself, "_Caius_," Caius chirped at the mention of his name, "Quite appropriate," she concluded finally as she entered the name into the documentation. She must have been pretty confident that she got it right because she did not question her own conclusion. Telicos must have telepathically communicated or whatever he could do to affirm that.

Even though Turians had no qualms about nudity, his wings still wrapped around her like privacy curtain while she donned her clothing. Solana rose and handed Caius to him. The little Turian reached out for his father with his wiry little arms and grasped tightly to Telicos' neck. Solana had to pause to admire the sight for a moment before continuing. Once clothed, his wings retracted, he shifted Caius to his arm where he fit snugly.

Mordin approached her next.

"Could be problematic in Turian culture… not entirely sure, might need some sort of ceremony first, approval-"

"Mordin!" Solana stopped him with a raised hand, "get to the point. We'll worry about whatever the problems are _after_ you've suggested whatever it is you are about to suggest to me."

"Clan markings," he said simply.

"Ah," she replied. She really had no idea. Anyone else in her family would know, but not she, and she had never really taken the time to look into the specifics of marking a child without the consent of the family.

"Well I technically joined the Varist… clan?"

Telicos nodded to approve her word choice.

"In Turian culture the infants receive the male's markings. And Caius already has in a sense," Solana concluded.

"May I contribute?" Telicos asked.

"Telicos," she clicked her mandibles playfully, "you can say whatever you want whenever you want."

His laugh was a rumbling wave of warmth. Caius chirped.

"This is not so much a cultural thing as it is a biological thing but," his fringe lifted slightly and little strips of green, glass shattered then polished by the water, brightened there. Caius chirped again a reached out for the new color, but then quickly swiveled his head towards his mother and stared.

At first she thought that something was wrong; then she realized…

"That is…"

"Emerald green, Cor'a, like your eyes. Socially, you belong to my clan now… but that does not change my belonging to you and you alone. Direct your attention to my back," he unclasped the shirt and showed his back to her. The Sicarian doctors averted their eyes, as if this was very intimate. He had white tattoos back there, covering his back from scapulae to the lumbar region of his back. Solana felt compelled to reach out and trace them. They were beautiful.

"I inherited my luminescence from my mother, these are my father's colors. At infancy, the non-inherited color is inscribed. Even though your color is beautiful pure green, the striking cobalt, I feel, is appropriate if he is to fit in with your culture. I, in addition, would prefer it if you would inscribe me as well. It is of importance to me to take on a part of your culture as you have taken on mine."

Solana gaped. His fringe settled back against his head again.

"Alright," she said simply, "he _is_ part Vakarian. Why not? I'm sure I'm violating tons of ancient traditions right now that I don't even know exist. I don't know about you though…"

"Smart choice. Not barefaced, " Mordin added. Solana had not even thought of that.

"What is this term?" Telicos asked.

"There is a social stigma if a Turian lacks facial markings, at least to us. Often they are assumed to be dirty and untrustworthy."

Telicos gave what she assumed was a nervous rumble.

"I would rather try to soften any sort of stigma there may be. I would also assume that Turians place a stigma on interracial marrying."

"Certainly," she muttered, distraught. Literally two weeks ago she never thought she would give birth to a hybrid child, so she had never been particularly worried about stigmas. Now, of course, she had to be. The Vakarian name carried a lot of weight, and the only reason Garrus was allowed to hook up Shepard was because he could do whatever the hell he wanted and it would be right.

She, on the other hand, was not allowed so much freedom. Or so she thought.

"Face only or full body?" Mordin asked quickly.

"Full body," Solana answered. She had always been jealous that her brother had the entire set. She, being younger and a _female_ was only given markings down to her shoulders.

"And you?" Mordin directed his question at Telicos.

He thought for a moment before responding.

"Would you inscribe the arms only?"

"Yes."

Solana wondered why just the arms and quickly thought better of it. He was in charge of his own decisions and marking up his face would draw too much attention. Or maybe there was something that she did not understand about the arms specifically, or the unwillingness to mark the face. Or maybe she was reading too much into it.

"Cor'a," he murmured and leaned in, "I simply do not wish to attract attention to myself in this time of war. And I prefer that the markings constitute something of a promise. They are yours alone to admire and touch."

Her head bumped into his before she noticed that she had even been leaning in in the first place.

"Mmm…" she purred, "are you sure it's not because you do not want to wreck up your pretty face?"

He laughed quietly, but it still shook her to the core.

"Of course. That and the scales on my arms the lightest, lacking any camouflage strips, so the markings will actually appear there, even if only barely."

He was actually perfectly right. She felt like an ass. Well, she was an ass.

Apparently Mordin had already been discussing this with the other Doctors because they had prepared the acid and pigment solution that would etch into Caius plates and Telicos' scales. Solana knew the full body pattern by heart, but apparently so did her omni-tool, the data from which was used to drive a robotic arm that would perfectly administer the acidic pigment to create the shapes with unparalleled precision. It seemed a little sacrilegious, but she was in position to argue.

Caius was inscribed by a surgical armature. It was strange to say it, but they did not have access to professional markings' scribe so this was the closest they could come. He squirmed and chirped a little but other than that he held still. Telicos was telling him that this was important enough to merit holding completely still which his still young mind was somehow able to comprehend. Solana knew that she would have a lot to learn about Sicarian childhood as the mother of one.

The markings were also written into the lighter scales on Telicos' arms where they barely registered, but she could still make them out. He held them out, naked in all their muscular glory, for her to admire. Caius chirped again, the vibrant cobalt markings that covered his plates were beautiful. A flash of yellow shot from his head to his shins, showing off both his mother's and father's markings.

"So young Caius is now a Sicarian citizen," Doctor Coros concluded.

"And Turian citizen as well," Mordin added.

"Honoress proclaimed that she would visit us but something came up and she had to take her leave. She says she does not know when she will return, only that it should take no longer than the duration of a few days."

Coros' mate came over with something resembling an omni-tool in her hand.

"We have taken the liberty to replace your omni-tool with a much more functional version. Everything from the previous is located here," She strapped the device around Solana's wrist for a snug fit just like her old omni-tool.

"You will figure it out," she said and then turned away to go mess with something else.

Doctor Coros spoke next, the hint of disdain and worry on his voice.

"We need to plan your return trip Doctor Solus. And _Va_'Vakarian of Varist, I do not know how you two will be able to live apart… easily. Sicarians are not necessarily designed to live apart from their mates."

"Can't I just stay with him?" Solana nearly pleaded, not understanding why they would have to Separate. Caius picked up on the negative energies and rumbled nervously, still clinging to his father.

"We cannot afford to jeopardize your family's future. I would rather you return to your people, if only temporarily, to dissuade any fears that you have been killed or taken hostage. There is no need to incite unnecessary animosity over this. In addition, if any of ours or your people found out, you, your mate, or your child could be put in serious danger. All of us want you to stay together, to live contentedly, but that is simply not an option right now."

Solana and Telicos anxiously harrumphed with their subvocals. But he was right.

"_Var_'Varist," Coros began nervously and quietly as if someone else may be listening, "recent… medical discoveries have allowed my mate and I to achieve something… useful in this scenario. Here," he handed Telicos a black case. He opened the lid and saw that the box was filled with twelve syringes carefully laid in protective foam.

"These are extremely dangerous, Varist, under no circumstance must these _ever_ be touched, inspected, or worse, used by another Sicarian besides yourself. Do you understand?"

Telicos stared blankly and nodded. Solana was legitimately nervous based on his tone of voice and wavering subvocals.

"The contents of these syringes will bypass your repression for a month each," he said.

Telicos sucked in air sharply and fluttered his mandibles. His lenses shifted around and his eyes flickered. As if to affirm that he knew the gravity of this information, Caius chirped and hummed erratically. Solana really wanted to ask what that meant.

"They will keep you alive at the very least, but I cannot promise that you will feel emotionally well. Take _one once_ a month. Do _not_ take more than one at once _ever_. _Ever!_" he almost barked.

"Sir," Telicos replied, a long-unused military response forcing itself through instinct. The case was closed and set aside.

"This is for the good of your family, Varist."

"What about our son," he asked, softly, still nervous.

"He will go with _Va_'Vakarian, where he will be difficult to distinguish. He will wear token holoshades to keep his lenses hidden."

Solana's heart tore in half as his lenses shifted in their sockets and glazed over. He was crying.

Solana hated how much everything had to be hidden, but it had to be done. As much as she wanted to keep them together they would inevitably have to break for their duties, which did not allow time for family. Until they would be forced apart, she would focus all of her time and effort on the moments she had with her infant and her mate. There was the looming risk that they would be her only moments with her family.

Telicos swept her into an embrace and held her. The Doctors shuffled out of the room to give them some privacy.

* * *

Val stepped back to admire the armor over her form. It was beautifully crafted and state of the art, even for Sicarians. The plating was a fierce black and tiled with microscopic hexes that caused all degree of interesting reflections win the light. It was angular and predatory as she had asked, and instead of wings and radials she had short protrusions that looked like the wings on an aircraft. And damn if the armor did not show off her curves and do its best to keep her alluring in spite of the deadliness behind every angle.

Composed of a synthetic microfiber resin and monomolecular crystalline alloy plates that would stop nearly any projectile, her armor without any kinetic shielding was already rated higher than most kinetic barriers. And while it did take most of the thrill of danger out of the equation, there were still weak points and she was not going into a combat situation just for her entertainment. They were making the playing field so uneven that anyone would be able to waltz in and retake the hostages. However, the key difference here was the speed, precision, and efficiency with which the whole thing could be executed.

Val could stalk in without any armor, and still pull off a rescue.

She was given a Sicarian helmet, which had additional space for the fringes and mandibles that she did not require. If only for a moment, it would be able to cover her identity before they noticed that she had no wings. She supposed there were those Sicarians that never developed wings. They usually received prosthetics to make up for the loss, but occasionally one would become so proficient in combat or sciences that they would be granted an exception. The only thing that irked her about this association was that wingless Sicarians never took mates because they were considered partially defective. Those with prosthetics, however, did take mates.

She did not particularly like the idea of being considered partially defective, but that would just have to slide. If anything, a wingless Sicarian in armor was an extremely deadly Sicarian in armor. Probably more so than most.

Oracle and she had been given a small operational crew, but they were still going in alone. Val did not particularly worry about what kind of enemies they were facing. Unless they were Yahg uprising all of a sudden, she could take them down with her bare hands if she wanted. And even a Yahg would go down under her might.

She met up with Oracle wearing her full suit of impenetrable armor. She was stopped by the sight of her mate in his set, looking more dangerous and predatory and sexy than ever, and she was unable to keep her focus from devouring him. Just like with clothing that flattered his form, what she _really_ wanted was to tear the armor off him and pin him to the floor and ride him until they were both completely out of energy.

From the way he was frozen she guessed he had the same reaction.

"Amazing…" Oracle said, "I cannot help but feel that if I touch you I would never see the lights again. So dangerous," he purred, "I have to pick my mind from the mud before it gets permanently contaminated."

"You _are_ twenty one, Ilus, you are allowed to have hormones."

"Not really, not with my position in society."

"Well, we are beginning a new Era, Ilus. You are allowed to be an exception."

Val stood on her toes to kiss him quickly before their crew had a chance to catch them together. She pulled on her helmet and Oracle pulled on his as their pilot and her mate entered their immediate space. Luckily the helmets were able to cover up the scents that they had exchanged, as well as filter out any pheromones that they may be breathing in or out.

"We have the location, we will depart upon your word," the female pilot informed.

"Make haste. We are ready, take us there now," Val ordered.

"Sir," They nodded and left the room to assume their positions at the helm.

"Shall we proceed to the armory then?" Oracle asked.

Val made a show of flipping out her holoblades, one from each forearm, each long and slender and most importantly, deadly.

"Oh, how silly of me," Oracle said, mirth filling his subvocals, "you do not even need a rifle. It would probably just slow you down. I, on the other hand, will take one, just in case."

"I am only teasing. Lead the way."

* * *

"Primarch Victus himself…" a sticky and quite obviously human voice announced. For whatever reason they had put Aevia and the Primarch together in the same room with one human. Aevia did not care if he was a biotic or what kind of weaponry he was packing, he was an idiot to thing that he had _both_ the Pimarch _and_ Aevia Vakarian herself under control then he was laughably wrong. However, she was here to find out information as well. When they got out inevitably, their omni-tools had both pinged a location before being shut down by their captors, Aevia wanted whoever these people were destroyed. Scum like this did not deserve to exist in her galaxy while she was still breathing.

"And the famous Aevia Vakarian," Aevia was assessing her situation. There was a bright light shining in her face and the room was dark in an attempt to keep her from figuring out where anything was. Unfortunately, this human hated Turians so much that he thought that it worked that way. It did not. She was able to see that there was no one else in the room, two cameras in the corners, Primarch Victus fastened to a chair identical to hers to her left. The human had a peculiar logo on his shirt and no armor. It was like he was determined to kill himself.

She rumbled some subharmonic phrases to the Primarch who responded. Translators picked them up as faint static when they were not coupled with standard speech. The human continued to talk.

"Wow you are really making it far too easy for me to do my job you two. Now that you both are here I would say I have plenty of leverage to do whatever I please. But first, you are going to tell me where it was you think you were going. Hm?"

Aevia wanted nothing more than to wipe the varrenshit-eating grin from his face. It was entertaining how much he thought he knew. He was clearly a new guy.

Aevia asked the Primarch if he was all right on her subharmonics and he responded in the affirmative. He also directed her attention to the fact that the binds on his hands were unlocked. Aevia remembered that he had gotten one of those fancy, much newer internal omni-tools that could not be removed and did not trigger standard and even high-level detectors. He was pinging out their location and had access to a suite of physical-hologram-based technology. Namely a holoblade and more recently, holodarts.

This entire thing was a waste of time, so she decided to play with her prey.

Aevia leaned forwards and shook her head like she did not understand what the human was saying. They had, after all, removed her omni-tool. The human had been speaking English to her, and if he was smart and knew who she was, he would also know that she spoke three Human languages fluently: English, Spanish, and Mandarin.

He took the bait, poor ignorant Human. He frowned and fiddled about with his omni-tool. Soon enough the door opened and someone else came in. They were both completely distracted trying to get the omni-tool's translator to function.

She did not even have to speak to completely stall the interrogation and buy any potential rescuers some time. She would try to break out herself, but they were likely out-gunned and out-numbered. Their armor had been stripped of them so they could not afford to be shot at.

"Piece of shit," the other one grumbled, referring to the omni-tool.

"Lock them in, watch them. I'm going to get a replacement and a proper translator," the first one said. They were left there. Alone.

"I would be lying if I said I expected us to make it to our rendezvous," the Primarch spoke. The cameras had been looped and the audio cut so they were free to talk as they pleased, "I was not expecting to be taken quite so… _creatively_. Once we are broken out, we will warn our people of this new threat, and continue to meet with the Sicarian Oracle. Boring though hull to take someone… damn that's… _impressive_."

"So you were planning for this," Aevia asked deadpan.

"I told them it would take a few days to reach the rendezvous when it would really only take one or two. I warned them we might be followed. Hell, I even told my crew not to worry if we were taken."

"I have to admit Primarch, I'm impressed with your ability to multitask," Aevia grinned, "although it is pretty damn risky."

"Gain through risk, you said it yourself _Praea_. I have been trained by the best how to act and what to say in a torture situation… if it ever gets that bad. However, nothing can stop an Alfa Dexteras unit, one of which is on its way now. We just have to hold out another day and a half. And if they try anything handsy, this _is_ a triple-reinforced alloy containment room. We could defend it quite easily."

"So we wait? That is quite boring."

"Ah yes, the goddess of CQC has spoken," his mandibles twitched into a grin, "maybe on our way out you can exude your aura on these poor fools."

"I can hardly wait," she replied unenthusiastically. Just then the restraints on her chair snapped open and then shut again. She was free to pull her wrists away whenever she pleased.

"We should be fine as long as they don't beat us to death."

"We will see," and then Aevia muttered "sly bastard" under her breath. He took mock offence.

"Me? The Primarch of Palaven a bastard?" he feigned injury, "I will have you know-" they were cut off when they felt footsteps through the floor. The first captor walked in with two guards and a pistol in his hand, and aimed it directly at her head. He did not look too particularly happy.

* * *

Nothing quite like becoming a father and then having your child and mate taken away from you eh?


End file.
